Free The School for Brides by Cheryl Ann Smith Page B

isn’t mended until the cloth can no longer hold a stitch. The earl pinched each farthing until it cried out for mercy.”
    It took Eva a moment to realize stern Sophie was making a jest, and she chuckled. The other women chuckled as well. Eva realized there was more to Sophie than just the hard edge she presented to the world. It might take longer to find her a husband than the others, but Eva would rise to the challenge.
    “On that note, why don’t we discuss how to budget the household allowance?” And Eva spent the next hour doing just that. The dull talk kept her mind off the duke.
     
     
    T he sun had barely begun to cast a few tentative threads of gold across Hyde Park when Eva broke the morning fog on the back of Muffin, the little mare her father had given her for her tenth birthday. Most would consider the dapple gray horse quite tame and certainly a dull ride, as the mare was nearing eighteen, but for Eva, Muffin represented a time when her father was still alive and Mother and she were truly happy.
    For years of good memories and a sweet disposition, Muffin resided in a place of glory in the small stable behind their town house, along with their one carriage horse, Benny, and would remain there as long as she drew breath.
    “The day will be a hot one, don’t you think, darling?” Eva ran her gloved hand down the side of Muffin’s neck as the cool morning began to warm nicely with the sun. “Perhaps you can roust yourself for a bit of a run today?”
    Eva breathed in the cool, wet air and sighed with longing. Muffin had one speed: slow. Eva would need a different horse if she ever wanted the wind whipping through her hair as she raced along the park’s winding paths.
    Clad in a simple gray riding habit, she’d chosen to don her wig beneath her matching gray hat, and perched her spectacles on her nose, out of fear His Grace had spies lurking behind every potted plant and bush along the street outside her home.
    As long as she held tightly to her disguise and repelled him with her plainness, she might be able to convince him to seek his vile pleasures elsewhere and leave her be.
    It was a notion she very much worried was futile. The duke longed to make her pay, and what better way than to force her to suffer his lecherous attentions?
    Eva urged Muffin on when she stopped to nip at a clump of grass. The mare snorted and clopped slowly down the lane with bits of grass hanging from the side of her mouth. Since the park was empty at the early hour, Eva had plenty of time to think without interruption about her most troubling topic: His Grace, and how to defy him.
    Eva was so caught up in her worries that it took her a moment to realize Muffin was walking in an uneven gait. She drew the mare to a halt.
    “What is this?” She dismounted and tipped back her hat. “Have you picked up a stone?” She led Muffin a few steps down the path to discover the injured foot, then lifted the mare’s leg for an examination. Sure enough, a small pebble was wedged in her hoof, just sizable enough to cause discomfort. “Oh, dear. Let me see what I can do to get that out.”
    Eva pulled off one glove and dug at the area around the pebble with her nail. The pebble seemed quite determined to stay where it was. She released the hoof and looked around for something to pick it loose. At that moment, a squirrel darted across the road and Muffin shied into Eva. A hoof came down on her foot before she could jump out of the way.
    Eva yelped as the full weight of the plump mare ground into her toes. Pain shot through her foot.
    “Well done, Muffin,” she said scornfully. “You put full effort into crushing my toes.”
    Unconcerned, the mare lowered her head to push a leaf around with her lip.
    “I did not plan to consummate our arrangement in the park.” A sardonic voice floated out of the misty fog. “But I suppose I can find a large bush behind which we can have some measure of privacy.”
    His Grace appeared out of the bleak