Free Miser of Mayfair by MC Beaton Page A

nothing more than a gathering of ladies who play cards. They are invited to one of my little afternoons or evenings and if they feel the urge to play, who am I to deny them?’
    ‘Perhaps we both might profit,’ said Mr Pardon slowly. ‘Say you were to send Miss Fiona a card – and quickly, before she is warned against you. That way you could shake some money loose from the golden tree. She will need to ask papa for the money, and he will be incensed. I will be on hand to comfort and advise him. I will offer myself as guide and protector – after I have settled your bills with his money, of course.’ He mentally added, And I had better have some splendid excuse to explain what I was doing jumping on him in the middle of the night.
    ‘I shall call on her tomorrow,’ said Lady Disher. ‘But what if she is shrewd? What if she takes one look around my establishment and takes her leave? What if she brings her father?’
    ‘You always know how to play your cards,’ said Mr Pardon, fanning himself delicately with a chickenskin fan. ‘She is invited to afternoon tea. Ladies only. Gossip among the cups. Little game of faro, Miss Sinclair? All respectable.
You
know how it is done. If she fails to take the bait, then I will do my best to lead her back into your web, my divine spider.’
    ‘Is she clever?’
    ‘I did not have much conversation with her. She was next to Harrington at dinner.’
    ‘Harrington? That devil and woman-hater? What did he say of her?’
    ‘Nothing. You know Harrington. Never gossips.’
    ‘He will not interfere? Did he seem
épris
in that direction?’
    ‘When was Harrington ever
épris
? Stern, silent misogynist . . . but she did make him laugh at one point.’
    ‘Aha! I feel the sooner I entrap Miss Fiona the better. I shall call tomorrow, and, if I fail, I will ask your help.’
    ‘Miss Sinclair!’ said Rainbird, rising to his feet. ‘What a pretty servants’ hall,’ said Fiona vaguely. ‘Is that your dinner?’
    A stale loaf and a hunk of cheese stood on the table.
    ‘Yes, miss,’ said Rainbird with some asperity. ‘It’s all we can afford.’ He thought guiltily of the tips they had received and then comforted himself with the thought that that
had
been all they could afford since they had received the money after the shops had closed.
    ‘I know
you
, Mr Rainbird,’ said Fiona. ‘Now, let me see . . . that’s Alice, and that’s Jenny, but who is this?’ She looked down the table to where Lizzie sat at the end.
    ‘Lizzie O’Brian,’ said Lizzie, bobbing a clumsy curtsy.
    Fiona gazed at Lizzie’s spotted face and lank hair. ‘Vegetables,’ she said suddenly. ‘You must eat vegetables, Lizzie. Lots and lots. They will shine your hair and clear your complexion.
Raw
vegetables.’
    ‘Like a rabbit,’ sniggered Dave, the pot boy, and was cuffed into silence by Alice.
    MacGregor, who had been seething like a volcano, moved forward towards where Fiona was standing, tufts of red hair sticking out from under his white skull cap. ‘Now, now,’ bleated Mrs Middleton, catching hold of his sleeve.
    ‘Vegetables is it?’ demanded MacGregor passionately. ‘For a wee scullery maid when us can’t get a bite to eat.
Vegetables!
’
    ‘Stow your whidds and plant ’em, for the cove of the ken can cant ’em,’ jeered Joseph.
    ‘Silence, all of you,’ roared Rainbird, appalled at such insubordination. ‘You should be abovestairs, miss.’ He marched to the door and held it open.
    ‘I do not mind,’ said Fiona, wide-eyed. ‘I know that lack of food causes sharpened tempers. You will have money for food and clothes and warmth just as soon as I can arrange it.’ She went quietly from the room and closed the door behind her.
    The servants looked rather shame-faced. All their wrath was directed against Mr Sinclair. They felt Fiona had done nothing to deserve such a display of bad manners.
    ‘Do you think she meant it?’ asked Lizzie timidly. ‘About us getting money, I