Free Karen Harbaugh by The Marriage Scheme

as—perhaps better than—any I had had! I looked admiringly at Lord Ashcombe. “Oh, it’s a wonderful plan! And so kind of you to help me in this way! I know I will enjoy myself excessively!”
    He blushed and disclaimed, “Not at all, not at all. Just returning a favor. After all, if it hadn’t been for you, I might have found myself leg-shackled to your mother! Not that it’s not what a man would want, but I’m rather a bit young for that sort of thing, you know! Still want to kick up a few larks before I settle down, after all!”
    Impulsively I clasped his hand, briefly raised it to my cheek, and lifted my eyes to his. “Oh, but you are too modest, I know! How kind you are! I am so grateful! I know I shall like meeting your sister!”
    He opened his mouth and closed it, staring down at me for a long moment before saying, “Yes, well, er, yes. N-nothing, really, trifling service, no need to make anything of it.” He seemed to shake himself a bit. “It’ll be a treat for my sister, too; good to know more people her own age, eh?” He let out a puff of breath and straightened his waistcoat with a brisk air. “Well, that’s that, then! I shall see if I can set something up for next week, if that is all right with you?” I nodded.
    A thought seemed to strike him. “Good God, Samantha will probably be in transports over this— hasn’t been out and about for months! I’ll have to keep my distance when I tell her, or she’ll be casting herself at my waistcoat and rumpling my cravat no end! Never knew such a one for hugging and petting her relations. A man’s not a curst spaniel, you know!”
    He shook his head. “Sisters!” he uttered disgustedly.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Mother handed me the invitation from Samantha with raised brows that said “I told you so” as clearly as if she had spoken. I ignored this. I, at least, knew the true state of affairs, if Mama did not. That would suffice until such time as Lord Ashcombe became seriously attached to someone else; then she would know she had been mistaken in the direction of his affections. Meanwhile, I would enjoy his company and that of his sister in our outings, all with Mama’s approval.
    I felt a moment of guilt, wondering if I were taking selfish advantage of Mama’s stubborn hopes for me, but reflected that even if she did believe that Lord Ashcombe and I were only friends, she could hardly object to—indeed, she might even encourage—my making friends with respectable people of my own age.
    His lordship was right. I did like Samantha. As we quickly came to know each other, we turned “Miss Canning” and “Miss Ashcombe” into Georgia and Samantha. With Lord Ashcombe becoming very much like a brother to me, I came to call him Lucas as Samantha did. She was very like her brother in coloring: very wavy black hair, with clear translucent skin that became stained a light cherry about her cheeks when she became animated. Her eyes were not so blue as Lord Ashcombe’s—they were more of a bluish green, almost aqua color—but her lashes were as enviably long. She was slim and neat as a pin, but not as tall as I had expected she would be after seeing her brother. Indeed, I had thought I was short, but I must have topped her by almost four inches. She was a bit shy and quiet at first, but when I revealed to her my scholastic ambitions, she grew more lively and disclosed that she, too, had ambitions: she wished to be a Writer of Novels.
    Lord Ashcombe listened to these revelations with what was clearly a superior air and too obvious tolerance as he quite expertly tooled our carriage down Rotten Row. Samantha caught his eye and said: “And I don’t want to hear anything from you about if it is worth doing or not, because I am determined to Write. I was born to do so! I am sure of it!” She lifted her little chin, looked at me, and nodded her head with assurance. I nodded back. I had to admire someone with serious ambitions and the determination to