Free Miss Grimsleys Oxford Career by Carla Kelly Page A

on his hand. “Every week he writes the essay that I read on Saturday mornings. He wrote the last one on credit, and said he wouldn't write any more until I coughed up the guineas.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled letter. “And what do I find under my door but this note from the warden himself! I missed last Saturday's essay, and if I do not produce an acceptable essay this Saturday, he will write Father.”
    The silence stretched between them. Gordon took another sip of tea. “Then Papa will summon me home and I will never be any closer to Spain than I am right now!”
    Ellen sat in silence, thinking to herself that it was no time to trot out her childhood scolds and remind him that it was only what he deserved. She touched his hair, matted and dirty from the London gutter. “Can you not write your essay now? It is only Tuesday. Surely …”
    He groaned again and drained the rest of the tea. “El, you dolt,” he said. “I am trying to tell you that I have never written an essay in my life!”
    As tears filled his eyes, she realized it was also not the time to vent her own anger at his good fortune in an Oxford career.
For he will not see it that way
, she thought.
    “You have attended the lectures,” she began. “That ought to be some help in writing an essay.”
    “Yes, I attend the lectures,” he said. “I take notes while that dreary don drones on about this or that, and then I turn my notes over to my friend and he writes the essay.”
    He eyed his sister, and as she stared back, the look in his face changed and became more thoughtful. He brushed the hair back from his eyes but his glance did not waver from her face.
    Ellen had seen that expression before, but not in years. She shook her head. “I don't care what you are thinking, but the answer is no, you provoking brother.”
    He did not appear to hear her words. A grim smile played about his lips. “I have just had a brilliant idea, El. It's a real hayburner, and I am astounded that I could think of it, considering how I feel right now.”
    She knew better than to say anything but pursed her lips into a thin line.
    When she made no comment, he took her by the arm. “Ellen, you're going to attend that lecture in my place and write my essay.”
    “I am not!” she declared. “You can go to your lecture and …”
    He shook his head. “Not like this, El. It starts in half an hour, and I can't even hold up my head. Can you fathom the trouble I would get into from the warden if he saw me like this? No, Ellen, you'll be as safe as houses.”
    “You can't possibly be serious,” she said, her voice soaring into the upper registers.
    He winced. “Trust me, El.”

WOULDN'T TRUST YOU IF YOU WERE THE LAST Grimsley alive,” she declared indignantly, even as Becky Speed put her finger to her lips and Gordon flinched at her bracing tones. “Especially if you were the last Grimsley alive.”
    She moved closer to her brother, her face inches from his. “We are not children in the nursery anymore, and I cannot be coerced! You must think I am fearful stupid,” she hissed.
    To his credit, Gordon shook his head vigorously, which only caused him to moan and clutch it in both hands, as though he wished to wrench it off. “No, never that,” he gasped. “I ask you to help because I am fearful stupid,” he continued, changing his tack as he watched the suspicion grow in her eyes. “You owe me no favors. And I am certain you can think of countless injustices that would render such sisterly goodwill impossible.”
    “I can,” she agreed, with feeling. “If you give me leave of twenty seconds or so, I will name ten or twelve, brother.”
    He shook his head more carefully this time and took her by the hand before she could get out of his vicinity. “Ellen, I am desperate,” he said, his voice soft, pleading.
    “Well, I suppose you are,” she replied, at a momentary loss over his apparent abandonment of the argument. She regarded him in