Free Miss Wonderful by Loretta Chase

my hair offended him so much that he opened his eyes as
little as possible."
    "Why
on earth do you imagine your hair offended him?" Mrs. Entwhistle
said. "It is beautiful."
    Mirabel
shrugged. "Red hair isn't fashionable, especially this odd
color, and he must have everything up to the mark. Anyway, my
coiffure is never elegant, even at the best of times."
    "Because
you will not sit still for your maid to do it properly." A lacy
cap did not fully conceal Mrs. Entwhis-tle's own neatly arranged
brunette tresses.
    "Yes,
well, I gave Lucy almost no time this morning, and it came down, as
you'd expect."
    Mrs.
Entwhistle studied Mirabel's hair. "It seems to be in good order
now."
    "He
fixed it," Mirabel said. "It is pinned so tight, you would
want a pitchfork to dislodge it. I should like to know who taught him
to pin up hair. I should have asked—"
    "Really,
Mirabel."
    "—but
I was too startled to think of it." Startled wasn't the half of
what she'd felt. He'd stood so close, she could smell the starch in
his neckcloth. And the elusive scent she might have only imagined.
But she had not imagined the sudden thumping of her heart and the
confusing mix of sensations, of which surprise was the mildest.
    She
had an idea what those sensations were. She was an old maid now, but
she'd been young once, and attractive men had vied to stir her
interest. They had not all been unsuccessful. It would have been
easier for her, perhaps, if one had not succeeded.
    But
that was long ago, and she'd had a decade to recover. She could
remember the wonderful season in London, and William, without pain.
That didn't mean she wished to relive the experience. She knew that
any attachment must end the same way, and she was not a glutton for
punishment.
    Not
that she was in the least danger at present. Mr. Carsington wanted
only one thing from the unfashionable and disheveled Mirabel
Oldridge. It wasn't her money and most certainly wasn't her person.
He only wanted a piece of information, which he could easily obtain
without her help.
    Mrs.
Entwhistle broke into these meditations. "You said Mr.
Carsington was point-perfect in his dress."
    "He
would put Beau Brummell to shame." Mirabel proceeded to relate
the "nothing to wear" conversation in the ice storm.
    "That
explains a great deal," said Mrs. Entwhistle.
    "You
know how dandies are," Mirabel said. "Every detail must be
precisely so. You would not believe the degree to which my hair upset
him. His displeasure set the very air athrob. Finally he told me
outright: My hair coming down was distracting."
    "Then
you are better equipped than you thought," Mrs.
    Entwhistle
said. "You have discovered a weakness in your adversary."
    Mirabel
stared at her. "What do you mean?"
    "I
suggest a diversionary movement," said her former governess.
"Distract him."

    Chapter
4

    "A
dinner party," Alistair repeated expressionlessly.
    "Friday.
Only three days hence. Deuced short notice, I know." Sir Roger
Tolbert spoke between mouthfuls of the heavy meal Wilkerson's cook
had provided.
    The
two men sat in the dining parlor Miss Oldridge had vacated a short
time before.
    "Nothing
so grand as you're used to, daresay," the baronet went on. "Told
my lady so. Told her you'd have more pressing engagements. But you
know how women are. Get their minds fixed on something."
    Alistair
nodded sympathetically, while Miss Oldridge's prediction played in
his mind: Sir Roger Tolbert and Captain Hughes… will likely
call on you and invite you to dine with them.
    At
the time, she had upset him, but after she'd gone, Alistair decided
the scenario she painted was most unlikely, given the chilly
reception with which Gordy's agent had met. Alistair had for this
reason written in advance only to Mr. Oldridge, and citing the
agent's experience, asked the gentleman not to mention the visit to
anybody.
    Once
Alistair was here, the news was bound to spread quickly, he knew. But
he'd braced himself for a cool reception, if not outright hostility;
he was