Free The Dangerous Lord by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

because Papa designed their house, and they want me to see it now that it’s finished.” The invitation had taken her by surprise, for she barely knew Lady Worthing and knew nothing of the woman’s husband except rumor.
    â€œI still say you ought to make the most of it.”
    â€œOh, I will, don’t worry, especially at tonight’s ball. I’m sure to hear enough gossip for a scandal bouquet. Only wait until I write my next column—”
    â€œYou and your scandal-broths and gossip—as if that’ll take care of you in your old age.” Mrs. Box clucked noisily, then picked up the painting and went to the door. “Very well, don’t heed the one who’s looked after you since you were born. But don’t come cryin’ to me when the money’s gone.” With a sniff, she swung the door open. “I’ll have Joseph fetch the trunk. The coach—the hired coach—is waitin’ for you in front.”
    The housekeeper waltzed out with her nose in the air, mumbling, “Lord preserve me, I never thought to see the day when the Taylors couldn’t even keep a carriage.”
    Felicity made a face at the doorway. Mrs. Box certainly knew how to rub it in. But at least the dear woman hadstayed on, despite her dwindling salary. Only four servants remained—Mrs. Box, Joseph, one housemaid, and Cook. All of Papa’s beloved paintings had been sold, as well as his architecture books and drafting instruments. Even Mama’s jewels were gone, except for the paste ones Felicity used for social occasions.
    And still they lacked money. The boys ate as heartily as laborers, and she had to keep up appearances. She’d made every sacrifice she could think of. They dipped their own tallow candles and made their own soap, ate chicken instead of beef, burned fires only when necessary, and rationed the tea. They had no relatives to help them, and she couldn’t take a position as a governess with the boys to raise. She’d considered teaching, but it paid more abysmally than writing. Besides, most schools would require her to live on the grounds, and then what would she do with the boys?
    So she spent her days writing columns, prowling the rooms for more items to sell, and praying she could keep the creditors from devouring them until the boys were old enough to help support the family. Mr. Pilkington sometimes hinted he’d publish a book of hers if she could find a subject controversial enough for her to sharpen her tongue against, but so far he’d rejected all her suggestions for such a work.
    Joseph came for the trunk, and she trailed down the stairs after him. The last time she’d left for a visit of this sort, she’d gone with Papa. He’d been invited to the Duke of Dorchester’s to give an opinion on restoring the west wing of the ducal mansion. She’d gone along to take notes, as she’d done since she was eleven.
    During the visit to the duke’s estate, however, she’d discovered a certain aptitude for speaking her mind in such a way that people listened. Sometimes they berated her for her colorful opinions, but they did listen and even found her witty. It had been an amusement then, no more. Nowit was the only thing garnering her an income. Pray God she never lost her knack for it.
    She repeated that prayer an hour later after a thousand admonishments to Mrs. Box about the boys and after running the gauntlet of their tearful good-byes and sloppy kisses.
    She repeated it again three hours later, as the carriage crunched up the snowy drive of the Worthing estate. She wished she knew what to expect of this visit. Lady Worthing seemed nice, but who could tell with these countesses? They often made her feel like a pigeon among peacocks, even when she reminded herself she was smarter and wittier than any of them.
    It wasn’t her hostess who concerned her most, however. It was the host—the rumored pirate. She