Free The Scandalous Life of a True Lady by Bárbara Metzger Page A

said he did not live here, and he’d also said he never lied.
    The cat’s presence did explain Miss White. The feline’s ears twitched when Simone said the name out loud, and Simone had to laugh at her own false presumptions. Mr. Harris had brought a cat home, not his doxy, and Mrs. Judd disapproved. Simone could not blame the housekeeper, the way her own hand was quickly covered in cat fur, just from stroking the overgrown animal. She fetched her own hairbrush and comb and sewing scissors and started to brush tangles and mats and leaves out of the long white coat, her own anxieties soothed with the steady motion and the cat’s constant purring. “You and Sally seem to be the only friendly ones here,” she told Miss White, “but I don’t know who or what to believe any more. Not even my own decisions.”
    The cat jumped down and left, only now she was sleek and half the size, and damp from Simone’s tears.

Chapter Seven
    The cat might have looked better in the morning, but Simone’s prospects were as bleak as the old grey gown she put on by herself before Sally came with a breakfast tray. Hot chocolate, a sweet roll with jam, even a nosegay of violets threatened her resolve, but no. She was not so easily tempted by luxury and a life of leisure. She’d sell the blue gown—Major Harrison said it was hers to keep, no matter what happened—and put an advertisement in the papers. She could hope Mrs. Olmstead had not rented her room yet, and hope a position arose before week’s end. That was what she would do, and that’s what she would tell the major. She felt that was the least she owed the man, a personal confession that she was no high flyer after all. Her feet were planted too firmly on the well-trodden ground of virtue and respectability.
    Instead of confronting Mr. Harris to ask for an appointment with Major Harrison, Simone decided to ask Sally to talk to the stuffy secretary for her. Sally, however, brought the message that Mr. Harris wanted to see her in the breakfast parlor, at her earliest convenience.
    The former soldier looked well rested, Simone thought with a touch of rancor over her own sleepless night. He wore a corbeau-colored coat this morning, with a simple knot in his neckcloth that made him appear exactly what he was: a gentleman of dignity and means who happened to earn his own living instead of being an idle ornament of society. Too bad he was a churlish boor.
    He did not speak when she entered the room, but he did rise, then stared through his spectacles at the drab governess gown she wore, the tight coil of braids at the back of her neck, the sturdy worn boots. Sally was near tears to send her charge downstairs looking like she’d come to sweep the parlor, but Simone had insisted.
    Mr. Harris did not comment on her altered appearance, he merely gestured to the coffee pot on the table and told her to ring for Jeremy if she preferred tea or chocolate. Covered dishes were on the sideboard, with eggs, kippers, kidneys and bacon. He’d already eaten, he said as he resumed his seat, getting an early start to a day with much to accomplish.
    What, did the officious oaf think she was lazy, besides a light-skirt? He did look busy, though, with books and newspapers and notepads stacked in front of him next to a plate of buttered toast.
    Simone said that she’d had a tray in her room, and would not keep him from his important work. She only wished to request an appointment with his employer.
    That was impossible, according to Mr. Harris. The major had a full schedule. So did Miss Ryland, he informed her. A modiste would arrive within the hour, a coiffeur soon after, then a boot-maker to measure her foot for riding boots and shoes.
    He had been busy. And the meddlesome creature was not finished.
    “You can make a list of any other items you deem necessary and I’ll have them delivered. I will visit the jewelers myself. Do you have any preferences?”
    “Jewels? I have no need for jewels.”
    His