Free Lady Eve's Indiscretion by Grace Burrowes Page A

disapproving line.
    â€œHow much do I pay you, Miss Ingraham?”
    She named a figure that would have kept Dolan’s entire family of twelve in potatoes for a year, which was more a measure of their poverty than the generosity of her salary.
    â€œEffective today, your salary is doubled. Start taking Miss Georgina to St. James’s Park for her outings. That will be all.”
    ***
    â€œAre you attending one of Papa’s political meetings, or did Anna shoo you out from underfoot?”
    Gayle Windham, the Earl of Westhaven, smiled at his sister’s blunt question.
    â€œHello to you as well, Louisa.” He passed the reins of his horse off to a groom and glanced from Jenny to Louisa. “You two are up to something.”
    Standing there arm in arm, the flower of genteel English womanhood, they exchanged a sororal look. That look spoke volumes, about who would say what to whom, in what order, and how the other sister would respond. Westhaven’s sisters had been exchanging such looks as long as he could recall, and he still had no insight into their specific meanings.
    His only consolation was that Maggie had once admitted there were fraternal looks that caused the same degree of consternation among the distaff.
    â€œWalk with us.” Jenny slipped an arm through his, while Louisa strode along on his other side, a two-sister press gang intent on dragooning him into the mansion’s back gardens.
    â€œDon’t mind if I do. I trust all is well with both of you?”
    Jenny smiled at him, her usual gentle smile, which did not fool Westhaven for one moment. Genevieve Windham got away with a great deal on the strength of her unassuming demeanor, almost as much as Louisa got away with on the basis of sheer brass. He kept his peace, though. They’d reveal whatever mischief they were up to when they jolly well pleased to—and wheedling never worked anyway.
    â€œWhat do we know of Lucas Denning’s marital prospects?” Louisa fired her broadside without warning.
    Westhaven stopped walking and shrugged off Jenny’s arm. “Why do we want to know anything at all about such a topic? Among the five of you sisters, I’m fairly certain you could tell me how many teeth, how much blunt, and what type of cattle are associated with every titled bachelor in Polite Society.”
    And how they knew such things was enough to unnerve even a very happily married man.
    â€œHe has all his teeth,” Jenny observed, linking her arm with Westhaven’s again. “We understand the family coffers are a trifle… reduced, due to the late marquis’s spending habits, and we know Deene owns a racing stud and keeps a nice stable here in Town. We want to know about his prospects .”
    Westhaven took the liberty of seating himself on a bench near a patch of yellow tulips. “Haven’t a clue, my dears.”
    They were his sisters. Sometimes a little deliberate rudeness was necessary in pursuit of proper sibling relations.
    Louisa put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “We aren’t asking out of idle curiosity, you dolt. We need to know, and if you don’t spill, I will simply ask Kesmore. Lucas was racketing about before the old marquis died, and then he went off ruralizing for his mourning, so our usual sources know very little. Is he looking to run in double harness?”
    Every prospective duke ought occasionally to be referred to as a dolt, and it was apparently the sworn duty of the man’s sisters to see to the matter.
    â€œHe has a title, Lou, and only the one second cousin to inherit. I’m fairly certain he’ll be looking for a filly to run with him in double harness, as you so delicately refer to the state of holy matrimony.”
    Another look passed from Jenny to Louisa—a smug, satisfied, so-there sort of look.
    â€œWhat do you two think you know?”
    Jenny sat beside him. “We know, Brother, that we saw Evie driving