Free Venus by Jane Feather

look with a frank appraisal of her own, then she smiled and curtsied prettily, looking up at him in a way that one could only call provocative, through the luxuriant, curling forest of her eyelashes.
    It was Lady Margaret’s turn to gasp at such an immodest display. She was still trying to recover from the effects of her instant, automatic assessment of Polly’s clothing. Her brother must have spent a small fortune on garments that no lady would object to having on her back. The effect of such a creature, dressed in such a fashion, on the discipline and smooth running of her household could only be catastrophic. And she had been forbidden to mend the girl’s manners. She glared her outrage at her brother, who seemed not to notice anything untoward in the wench’s deportment.
    In fact, Nick was satisfied by De Winter’s reaction and amused by Polly’s response. She had learned the art of responding to such a reaction in the taproom of the Dog tavern, as he well knew, but there was nothing lewd or vulgar about her present demeanor—coquettish, certainly, but there was no harm in that. Indeed, it was an essential if she was to succeed in the life she had chosen.
    Ignoring his sister’s glare, he said, “After dinner, Polly, Iwould like you to come to my parlor. You shall have your first lesson.”
    Polly’s eyes glowed with pleasure, and there was none of the coquette about her this time as she curtsied again. “Thank you, my lord.”
    “What lesson?” demanded Margaret. “The girl cannot be spared from her duties again today.” She rounded on Polly, who still stood smiling in the doorway. “Have you nothing better to do, girl, than stand idling here?”
    Polly, catching Nicholas’s warning glance, bit back the retort springing so easily to her lips. She knew she had a powerful enemy in the Lady Margaret, but she also knew that Lord Kincaid was an even more powerful friend. He would protect her from injustice, she was certain, having put her in this position in the first place. Although why he should have done that still escaped her. She did not think that, in general, patrons, or even protectors, kept their protégées as kitchen maids. They set them up in lodgings of their own, where they could learn things like reading and writing and cleanliness without interference.
    She beat a rapid retreat from the drawing room. Of course, it was true that her adopted patron/protector had so far required from her none of the expected services of the protégée. He behaved simply as if he was accepting an obligation which he had the right to discharge as he saw fit. If he would make her his mistress, then surely matters would be conducted differently? Perhaps he required more encouragement. Mayhap, now that she was clean, he would find her more appealing.
    “What lesson?” repeated Margaret, sweeping past her brother into the dining room. “I do think, Lord De Winter, that my brother is suffering some disorder of the mind. He finds an orphaned slut upon the streets, and proceeds to treat her as if she were his own kin.” A little unconvincing laugh was intended to make a joke of the public criticism, but it failed lamentably.
    “I have promised to teach the girl her letters,” Nick said, in the same equable tone he had employed throughout. “Shehas a quick mind, and I see no reason why she should not attempt to better herself if she is able.”
    “But what will the rest of the household think if such decided preference is accorded one of their number? It is not decent to encourage the lower orders to step beyond their station.” Margaret passed a dish of stewed carp to her guest, her mouth small and pursed. “She is a brass-faced wench, overbold and with the deportment of a wanton. She stands in need of a round curbing, which it is to be hoped you will supply, since it appears that I may not.”
    Nicholas exchanged a look with De Winter. His old friend was well accustomed to Margaret’s shrewishness, but she was