Free A Lady Compromised (The Ladies) by Ava Pennington Page A

one said, fanning herself.
    “I never liked the girl myself,” said her friend. “Met her once when she was in London as a schoolgirl. Rather forward, I should say.” The girl’s round figure was not flattered by her too tight, white muslin gown, which was covered in flounces.
    Durham observed his friend’s expression of distaste and they both made for the exit to collect their hats, gloves and canes. 
    “I think I have heard enough about myself this night,” said Durham as they collected these items from the footman at the door.
    “As have I,” Blackwell replied. “And I’m afraid I have not yet even heard the last.”
     

 
    Chapter 12
     
    “Oh, Amelia, here it is! Isn’t it beautiful! ” Lady Delia Ellsworth burst through the door, her arms full of books wrapped in ribbon. “I was so pleased, I had them wrapped—pretending I was giving them to friends.” Delia was all smiles as she handed copies of her novel to Amelia and her cook, Martha. “Is Sissy here now?” Delia asked of her other maid. She knew that the chance of Martha—or Sissy’s, being able to read was slim, but she felt like they should have copies all the same.
    “No, my lady, she’s run out to do a bit of marketing for supper,” Amelia answered. “She can have it when she gets back, though I don’t know that she can read it—I never asked her what if she could read, my lady.” Then Amelia opened the book and demanded that Delia sign it.
    “Oh, Amelia, I don’t know if I should!” Delia responded. “No one knows that I wrote the book—there would be such an awful scandal if they did! It was so hard at the bookshop not to tell absolutely everyone inside! I never thought I would be a published author!”
    “Well, I am proud to be in your employ, miss,” Martha said with a grin as she wiped her hands on her apron and reached for Delia’s gift. “Hey there now,” said Martha peering down at the deep purple cover of the novel, “Why didn’t you write your whole name as the author? It only says “D.E. Mannering, not Delia Mannering.”
    Delia had not told Martha, or Sissy, her real name as she thought it would only court whispers and exposure.
    “Yes, well, I didn’t want a lot of publicity and ladies don’t generally write novels, of the romantic kind, in their own names. I was afraid our landlord’s agent might object! So, you see, it’s just easier. I hope you won’t tell a very large number of people, Martha, you see, it could be a little problem?”
    “Of course I will never breathe a word, ma’am!” said Martha, slightly awed. “No indeed ma’am. Thank you, ma’am!”
    “Oh, Martha. Thank you, but don’t worry, please. It’s not a secret of the crown! Just keep things to yourself, as much as you can.”
    “Indeed ma’am! I will get back to the kitchens and fix up something appropriate for this celebratory occasion for dinner, my lady,” and Martha, clasping the book to her ample bosom, strode back through the swinging door from the drawing room toward the kitchen.
    “I can’t believe that you did use D.E. ! ” breathed Amelia.
    “…I did! I couldn’t resist. See, here, Annabelle’s Adventures, by D.E. Mannering!
    It did seem like an unnecessary risk to use another pseudonym when I already had to use one to rent this house! So, I am Mrs. Mannering to our landlord’s agent and Mrs. Mannering to my publisher and Mrs. Mannering to the world.”
    “Delia Ellsworth Mannering,’” Amelia read. “Oh, that is a good idea, my lady. You worked so hard on this book! You deserve to have your name on it, somehow. I do hope it sells a hundred thousand copies!” She held the book up again to examine the signature Delia had scrawled on the front page and smiled with delight.
    “You don’t think this will cause you any trouble, do you, my lady?” Amelia asked checking around the corner to ensure to that Martha was nowhere to be found. 
    “I can’t see why it should. As long as no one discovers