Free The Perfect Mistress by Victoria Alexander Page B

felt a sharp twinge of annoyance.
    Not at her grandmother—the old woman couldn’t help being eccentric or even a bit dotty. Not at the need to travel from London as often as she could manage it. And not at the unexpected expense of her grandmother’s support that had become her responsibility when her parents had died.
    But at her parents, especially her mother, who had chosen to keep her grandmother’s existence secret, even from their daughter. No doubt due to shame as to the state of her mental faculties. Still, it made no sense at all. Certainly Lady Eleanor Everett was a little peculiar perhaps and yes, she did tend to talk to people who weren’t there even if that might well run in the family. But Julia had visited her as often as possible after she’d learned she was alive, and very nearly once a month since William’s death, and didn’t think she was truly mad. Just old and possibly … sad.
    Mrs. Philpot opened the cottage door at Julia’s knock. Tall and thin, brisk and a bit stern, Harriet Philpot and her husband had worked for, in truth, cared for, Lady Everett since she had first moved to the cottage more than thirty years ago. Mr. Philpot had died a decade ago and now his sons maintained the place.
    “How is she?” Julia asked after they exchanged greetings.
    Mrs. Philpot’s lips flattened into a disapproving line. “She’s fine, she’s always been fine, she’ll always be fine.”
    While Julia appreciated Mrs. Philpot’s protective nature toward her grandmother, she could never understand why this particular question always elicited such a curt response.
    Mrs. Philpot showed her into the small parlor where Eleanor sat near the window reading as she always did, then took her leave. She did indeed look fine and far younger than her seventy-five years. She was small of stature, her hair nearly white and curling softly around her head. One could easily see she must have been quite lovely in her younger days. It struck Julia that she looked very much like an older version of the specter who appeared in her dreams. But, of course, she would.
    “Grandmother?”
    Her grandmother glanced up from the book and raised a brow.
    Julia laughed and sat down in the chair beside her. “My apologies,
Eleanor.
”
    “It would be different if I had known you as a child, dear,” Eleanor said as she did every time Julia forgot to call her by her given name. “Having a grown woman call me Grandmother reminds me of how very ancient I am. And reminds me as well that I can do nothing about it.” She sighed. “It’s most upsetting.”
    Julia bit back a grin. “I am sorry.”
    “I know you are, Julia.” Her green eyes twinkled. “My only consolation is that one day you shall be in my shoes. And while they are very comfortable they are as well very worn and sadly out of style.”
    Julia smiled then drew a deep breath. “I have a matter of some importance I must speak to you about today.”
    “A matter of some importance?” Eleanor closed her book. “Well, well, that will be a change.”
    Julia widened her eyes in surprise. “What do you mean?”
    “Darling, when you visit we chat about the weather. Autumn is in the air today, which means winter is not far behind. I did so love winter once. Riding in sleighs, wrapped in furs.” She sighed. “It has been a very long time since I rode in a sleigh and the cold no longer has the appeal it once did.”
    “Eleanor,” Julia began.
    “Sometimes we discuss literature. I should recommend the book I am now reading. It’s quite naughty.” Eleanor met her granddaughter’s gaze directly. “But then naughty does tend to sell books, doesn’t it?”
    Julia stared. “So I have heard.”
    “Often, you listen to me ramble on about nothing of any significance whatsoever, which unfortunately, is the way my thoughts wander when left to their own devices. When your husband was alive you would frequently tell stories about his work. Now, you sometimes comment on public