Free Somerville Farce by Kasey Michaels Page A

turn, does me. He... he’s a very sweet man, isn’t he?
Please tell me you don’t mind. I wouldn’t wish for you to be angry
with Harry. He has been so kind—taking me in, offering to provide
me with an entire new wardrobe so that I may take part in the
Season as well. Oh, yes. He expressly said that he harbors the
belief that I too, and not just the girls, might be satisfactorily
settled before the Season is over.” Find herself a widower, would
she? Harry would rue the day he had jabbed her with that dart, she
thought, fluttering her lashes demurely.
    Lady Amelia giggled. Trixy could hardly
believe what she was hearing, but it was a definite girlish giggle.
“Oh, that Harry—what a card!” Lady Amelia trilled, laying one
beringed hand on Trixy’s forearm. “We think we are beginning to see
the reason behind our nephew’s uncharacteristic act of charity. He
must have seen you when he went to Half Moon Street to call out
that odious Myles Somerville and become instantly smitten. No
wonder he took you in when you applied for his help. We couldn’t
believe he would willingly take on the debut of two young ladies,
daughters of his enemy, but now we understand. He has another,
eminently more personal reason for helping those poor girls, hasn’t
he? Were you taken with Harry on sight as well, dearest girl?”
    Trixy placed her hand over the older woman’s
and patted it. “Truly, ma’am, I don’t believe you have the right of
it. Harry was just being kind. I doubt he cares a snap for me. As a
matter of fact, I’m not even sure he likes me very much. It’s the
girls who concern him, who have touched his tender heart. You
mustn’t read romance into his simple act of charity.”
    Lady Amelia nodded sagely. “We understand
your meaning completely, my dear, and we shan’t tease him with our
knowledge. We always knew it would take a more mature woman to
pique his interest. We cannot wait to get you to London and outfit
you in a way that will dazzle Harry. It shan’t be easy—your hair
presents quite a problem, you understand—but we shall consider that
a challenge. Oh, but it will be fun to watch Harry try to elude the
callings of his heart, my dear, truly it will. For so long we have
feared that Harry would never wed, that he was taking this duke
business too seriously, but now... well, just let us say that we
are very pleased.”
    As Trixy allowed herself to be enveloped in
a perfumed hug, she decided that dishonesty, once the first
faltering step had been taken, rapidly became increasingly easy to
repeat. She had a roof over her head for the Season, the promise of
an entire new wardrobe, the wages Harry promised to pay her, and
with only a little luck, she would end up with the cottage and
allowance as well.

Chapter 9

    T he Duke of Glynde
was perplexed. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting
the atmosphere of Glyndevaron to be once he’d made his
announcement—complete with carefully calculated fibs—to his Aunt
Amelia, but he was certain that he had not gotten what he had
expected, for the general mood inside the house for the succeeding
forty-eight hours had bordered on the euphoric.
    His aunt, for one, couldn’t be happier, nor
more nearly incoherent in her joy. She was “absolutely taken” with
Eugenie and Helena and all but promised her nephew that, together,
the beauteous twins would take London society by storm.
    And, according to his aunt, Trixy
Stourbridge was “a rare treasure,” a young woman so good of heart
and unselfish of spirit that she did not make a single demand for
herself, caring only for the good of the twins; her modest nature
made it imperative that Aunt Amelia see to it that the companion be
rigged out in all the latest fashions and be forced, if necessary,
to join in all the fun of the Season.
    The fact that each statement Aunt Amelia
made about Trixy was punctuated with an “I know more than you think
I know, you little dear” wink did nothing to ease the