Free A Little Scandal by Patricia Cabot Page B

very own street, no less—that rarest of all things in London: a truly good, truly honest person. And certainly not because all that goodness and honesty came wrapped in such irresistibly lovely packaging.
    Still, her words took him so by surprise, that he momentarily forgot himself and burst out with a laugh. “Miss Mayhew, what if I were to pay you three hundred pounds a year? Would you come work for me then?”
    She said, looking quite appalled, “No!”
    “Why in heaven’s name not?” Then a horrible thought occurred to him. It ought to have occurred to him before. “Are you engaged, Miss Mayhew?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Engaged.” He stared at her. “It isn’t such a strange question. You’re an attractive young woman, if rather odd. I imagine you must have suitors. Have you impending plans to marry one of them?”
    She said, as if the idea were entirely preposterous, “Certainly not.”
    “Well, then, why the hesitation? Are you in love with Cyrus Sledge? Is it that you can’t bear the thought of leaving him?”
    She burst out laughing at that. The sound of Miss Katherine Mayhew’s laughter had a curious effect on Burke. It made him feel as if thirty-six was not quite so advanced an age, and that there might possibly be more to his future than flannel waistcoats and books by the fire.
    Perhaps a madness seized him. There was no other explanation for it, really. His valet was undoubtedly correct, and Burke was beginning to slip into senility. But at that moment, it seemed to him the most perfectly natural thing in the world to cross the room, snatch Miss Mayhew up by the waist, and lay a hearty kiss upon that laughing mouth.
    Or at least, that’s what he’d intended to do. And he succeeded in most of it, catching her quite unawares, and pulling her easily against him. But when he stooped to kiss her, she brought the atlas up, quite hard, against his forehead. Though the blow didn’t hurt, it was unexpected to say the least, and in his amazement, he loosened his hold on her—
    And she darted away, flinging open the library doors and leaving him alone in Cyrus Sledge’s library.
    It wasn’t any wonder, really, that he picked the atlas up and hurled it, with all his strength, at the stained-glass window.

Chapter Six

    Kate didn’t stop running until she reached the schoolroom. Once in its relative safety, she snatched Lady Babbie up from the hearth and began to pace, her face buried in the cat’s fur.
    Oh, Lord, she prayed. Please don’t let them give me the sack. I am begging you, please, please, please don’t let them give me the sack. I haven’t anywhere—truly anywhere—else to go.
    It was a prayer not at all dissimilar to the one she’d uttered when the Reverend Billings had assaulted her in the pantry. The only difference, really, was that she’d crowned the reverend with a pie dish because he’d repulsed her, and she’d whacked the marquis with an atlas … well, for different reasons.
    Posie looked in just as Kate was uttering a silent amen.
    “Well?” she asked excitedly. “What did he want, then?”
    Kate released the cat, who’d been struggling for some time in her arms. “Oh, Posie,” she said with a sigh. “I am utterly wretched.”
    Posie shook her head. “New coat, then, is it? The bastard. Them titled blokes is all the same, acting like posh gentlemen, when underneath, they’re nothin’ better than money-grubbers. Well, I’ve got a bit saved up, if you need a loan, miss. I won’t even charge you interest, how’s that?”
    Kate sank down onto the hearth. “It wasn’t the coat, Posie. He wasn’t here about the coat at all. He wants to hire me, Posie, to chaperone his daughter during her first season out for two—no, three hundred pounds a year.” Kate took a breath. “And I said no.”
    Posie was across the room in three strides. She took hold of Kate’s wrist and said, “I lied to you. I suspected he wasn’t here about the coat. I saw you run up