A Kiss Away From Scandal. Christine Merrill
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Charity and Grandmama needed all the help they could get.
She dipped again. The bend in her knees was not quite deep enough and her eyes could not seem to hold the fine line between deference and flirtation.
‘Are you still at that?’ Charity was standing in the doorway, arms folded in disapproval.
‘It pays to be prepared,’ Hope replied, straightening the curl on the left side of her face that could never seem to follow its mates into a proper coiffure.
‘Prepared to bow and scrape for the stranger coming to take our house out from under us?’ Charity said.
Hope bit back the urge to announce that it was her sister who needed to mind her manners. Instead, she said, ‘It is his house. We are but guests in it.’
‘Family, you mean,’ Charity responded.
‘It would be nice to think so.’ Hope turned away from the mirror to face Charity. ‘I prefer to take a more realistic view of the situation. Though we share a surname, he has never met us before. He will not think of us as family unless we work hard to make him do so. When he arrives, we should greet him with warm welcomes and friendly smiles.’
‘You don’t wish to befriend him. You want to marry him. What are your plans if that does not happen? If you mean to be prepared, it should be against all eventualities.’ Charity was far too logical for her own good. But that was no surprise. It had always been her nature to find the weakness in any plan and jab mercilessly at it until her opponent relented.
‘If the Earl is not impressed with me, we shall have to make decent matches while we are in town. Then we will set up our own households and not concern ourselves with him or his property.’ She put a subtle emphasis on the word we, hoping that her sister would acknowledge the seriousness of the situation and do her share to fix it. Hope had no real fear of failure for herself. But they had always known that things would not be as easy for Charity. And as she usually did, Charity was making matters worse with her refusal to even look for a husband.
‘We must also thank Mr Leggett for his generosity in making a Season possible,’ Hope added. She touched her skirt to remind her sister of the elegant wardrobes they’d purchased since coming to town. Before their sister had married, it had felt as if they’d been trimming, re-trimming and altering the same tired gowns for ages. But now, everything in their cupboards was fresh and new.
But you could not tell it from looking at Charity, who was wearing a gown that was two years old and could best be described as serviceable. It had done well enough for hiding in the manor library, but it was totally wrong for London. Her sister had noticed her silent criticism and responded, ‘There will be time for me to play dress up later. Right now, I have other plans.’
Hope gave her a firm but encouraging smile. ‘Of course you do. But it will be rather hard to carry them out while rusticating in the country.’
‘For you, perhaps. I was doing quite well right where I was. The sooner you allow me to return to Berkshire the easier it will be on all of us.’ While Hope had jumped at the chance to come to town, Charity had done nothing but complain since the moment they’d arrived.
‘You speak of my need for alternate plans,’ Hope said, smiling to hide her frustration. ‘Do you have any of your own? When the Earl arrives, you cannot simply dig in your heels and refuse to vacate the manor. If he asks you to go, you will have to leave.’
Charity smiled. ‘I do not need a second plan. The first one is near to fruition and I will be long gone before he ever sets foot in the house. If you would only allow me to return to the country...’
And there it was, again. The solution her little sister was continually hinting at, but refused to reveal. It did not sound as though she meant to reason with the new owner—as if there was a man on the planet who wished to be reasoned with by a girl just out of the schoolroom. But if not that, then what could it be? ‘This plan of yours...’ Hope hinted. ‘I assume it does not include marriage? Because to achieve that, you might consider accepting some of the invitations you receive.’
Then, a worrisome thought struck her. ‘Promise me you do not mean to dishonour yourself. We are not as desperate for money as all that.’
Charity laughed harshly. ‘My dear sister, you may lie to yourself about your own future, but please do not lie about mine. She stepped forward and took Hope by the shoulders, turning her so they stood reflected, side by side in the mirror. ‘No man will have me for a mistress. I am not pretty enough. I fully intend to marry, when the time is right. But it will take more than a new gown and a perfect curtsy for me to catch a husband. I will need a dowry.’ She reached up and adjusted her spectacles, as if assessing her own appearance. ‘A substantial one, I should think. It will take more money than average to compensate for both appearance and manner.’
‘Do not say that about yourself,’ Hope said hurriedly. But it was true. It was one thing to be a plain girl and quite another to be an intelligent one who could not manage to keep her opinions to herself. ‘I am sure, once the Earl comes...’
‘You will marry him, and he will look kindly on your beloved but eccentric, spinster sister?’ Charity patted her shoulder. ‘You are normally a very sensible girl, Hope. That is why it pains me to see you delude yourself.’
‘I just want to see you happy,’ Hope said. It was not as much a want as a responsibility. Now that Faith was gone, someone had to look out for the family and neither Charity nor Grandmama had the sense to take charge.
‘I am happy,’ Charity said softly. ‘It may surprise you to hear it, but it is true. Do not concern yourself with my future. Think of your own. I hear Grandmother has got vouchers for Almack’s. You must go and dance every dance, even without the presence of the Earl.’
‘Of course,’ Hope said, then gave her sister a pointed look. ‘And you will come with me.’
‘Perhaps,’ Charity agreed, oblivious to the order she had been given. Then she kissed Hope on the cheek and turned to go up the stairs to her room. ‘If I am not busy with something more important.’
Hope sighed. It was better than a flat refusal. Knowing Charity, by Wednesday there would be some excuse that would prevent her from coming out with them. But it did not matter. Just as her sister had suggested, Hope would go and dance until her feet ached. She would be as charming as she possibly could and see to it that every gentleman in London had met and been dazzled by Miss Strickland.
There was no point in being a wallflower. The new Earl of Comstock could have his pick of any girl in England. He would not look twice at a girl who was not courted by others.
She turned back to the mirror, and flashed a smile that would blind a duke at twenty paces. Then, the curtsy. ‘Good evening, my lord.’ This time, she dipped deeper and felt an embarrassing tremble in her front knee. She was nearly one and twenty, but hardly infirm. She could do better. She must do better.
She tried again. ‘Good evening, my lord.’
‘I should think good morning would be more appropriate. It is not yet eleven.’
She stumbled at the sound of a voice behind her and raised her eyes to see the reflection of the stranger who had entered the room as she practised.
It was he.
It had to be. Who else but the Earl of Comstock would be wandering around the house unintroduced, as if he owned it? In a sense, he did.
‘And I have no title.’
‘As of yet,’ she said. There was no longer a need to practise her smile. When she looked at him, it came naturally. Who would not be happy in the presence of such a handsome man? Though she had never been one to dote on the male form, his was perfectly proportioned, neither too tall nor too short, with slim hips and broad shoulders on which rested the head of a Roman God. His blond hair was cut à la Brutus, curling faintly at the fringe that framed a noble brow, unmarked by signs of worry. His grey eyes were intelligent, his smile sympathetic.
Praise