Free Silver Splendor by Olivia Drake

at your house.”
    Cicely let out a squeal of delight. Swiveling as her brother seated himself beside her, she snatched the sleeve of his morning coat and demanded, “Is this true, Nick? You’re allowing me to study with Elizabeth? Oh, you’re such a wonderful brother!”
    Lord Nicholas aimed an austere look at her. “This isn’t meant as a lark, Cicely. You must apply yourself and learn, prove to me and to yourself that your interest in art is genuine.”
    So this was a test, Elizabeth realized in dismay. He meant to establish once and for all that he was right. And he was using her to do it.
    “Oh, pooh,” the girl said, with a dismissive flutter of her fingers. “You think everything ought to be work. I prefer to seek enjoyment in life.”
    The earl merely tightened his lips and settled against the seat. Elizabeth waved a goobye to Kipp, her father and Cicely echoing the farewell. A lump formed in Elizabeth’s throat as she realized how lost and lonely the boy looked. Impulsively she leaned over and kissed his dirty cheek, her arms encircling his thin frame. “I’ll come back and visit.”
    “Aye, miss,” he said, though she could see the doubt in his dark eyes. She swallowed a reassurance. Words would mean precious little to a street boy who knew too much about broken promises.
    “If you need Miss Hastings,” the earl advised, “she’ll be staying at Hawkesford House in Berkeley Square.”
    “Aye, yer lordship, sir.”
    The carriage started over the cobblestones. One arm hugging the side of the landau, Elizabeth looked at Kipp standing in the street, shoulders hunched. When the darkness had devoured his slight form, she sat back and saw the earl gazing at her. Warmth shone in his expression… or did the glow of the lamps merely soften his handsome features?
    Elizabeth turned her warm face to the cool night breeze. Misty eyed, she watched the familiar neighborhood stream past. Lights winked in windows; noises and smells filled the air. It might be commonplace and tumbledown, but this small section of London had been her home for the past month, a place as real in her heart as the crowded avenues and quiet parks of New York.
    Misgivings suddenly pricked her. What did she really know of the aristocratic life she was about to enter? Accustomed to the omnibus, she had never before ridden in such luxury. Discreetly she stroked the smooth seat and drew in the faint rich scent of leather. She felt grateful for her father’s presence beside her, yet worried, too. How would Owen adjust to living in the household of the Earl of Hawkesford?
    Cicely chattered, making excited plans that Elizabeth only half heard. She fingered the ring on its chain around her neck and wondered about her grandfather, her mother’s father. Owen refused to speak of him. Even Mother had acted sad and silent whenever Elizabeth had mentioned him. Had Lucy grown up in surroundings as genteel as the earl’s?
    The landau headed toward Mayfair; dingy shops and dark tenements gave way to splendid stores and stately homes. The clop clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels created a symphony of sound. The streets glowed with gaslights. Dandies capered on fine horses; magnificently dressed ladies stepped into carriages, aided by footmen in swallow tailed coats and knee breeches.
    At last the landau drew to a halt. A grand, sprawling house stood across from a shadowed park. Surrounded by an ornate wrought iron fence, the oyster gray stone building looked like a country mansion strayed into a London square. Elizabeth stared in awe as the footman helped her from the carriage. Gas sconces lit the entryway; Corinthian columns supported a pediment above the gleaming, brass fitted door. Adorning the center of the pediment was a stone medallion on which soared a gracefully carved hawk.
    “‘Mors ante dedecus,” her father said, craning his neck to read the inscription below the medallion. In a faintly derisive voice, he translated, “‘Death before