Free The Impossible Ward by Dorothy Mack

attention while listening to a laughing remark by Miss Carstairs.
    “Do bring that graceless sister of mine over here to make our delightful cousin’s acquaintance, Lunswick,” he added, raising his voice a trifle and catching his sister’s eye.
    She blushed prettily and begged pardon in a light sweet voice before turning her dazzling smile in Marianne’s direction. “I am so happy to meet you, Lady Marianne. Oh dear, that sounds so absurdly formal when I hope we shall be the best of friends. If you do not object I shall call you Marianne, and I am Claire.”
    “Please do call me Marianne, both of you. I am quite unaccustomed to being called anything else, and quite detest ‘my lady.’ ”
    As his reserved ward suddenly smiled widely at her two cousins, revealing stunningly perfect teeth, Justin’s eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth pulled in. It had occurred forcibly to him that in the five days of their acquaintance she had not once smiled spontaneously in his presence. An impartial observer noting his reaction could not have said that he derived any pleasure from the attractive picture his ward presented as she talked with her new relatives, her very lovely eyes made a luminous sapphire blue by excitement at the unexpected meeting. Both cousins were studying her intently and his mother was looking on approvingly, pleased that her protégée was receiving such a warm welcome. Justin’s expression was thoughtful when a soft laugh at his side recalled his attention to Miss Carstairs, who was pouting prettily at what she termed his “going off in a trance.” He returned a laughing rejoinder that caused her to look self-conscious and satisfied. To Marianne, who knew as much about the art of flirtation as about the art of glassblowing, their conversation seemed completely pointless and she concentrated her attention upon her other cousin and her hostess. They had moved back into the room, but the newcomers refused all offers to stay for tea or dinner with a flattering show of regret, asserting that they had guests coming for dinner themselves and must return quickly. Before taking their leave however they accepted an invitation to dine en famille the following evening. Marianne noted for the first time that her cousin wore black gloves and wondered what would be expected of her. Her traveling dress was black but the only gown she possessed that would possibly be suitable for dinner in a manor house was the green velvet However she was too exhausted to care about anything at that point and gratefully accepted her hostess’ suggestion of a light meal in her room, followed immediately by a long night’s rest. She bade the marquess a polite good night and followed his mother thankfully from the room.
    The marchioness, having left her guest to the motherly ministrations of her own dresser, returned to the saloon a few minutes later to find her son awaiting her. He had been kicking idly at a log in the fireplace, but at the soft rustling sound of his mother’s dress, turned to face her with a rueful smile.
    “I feel I owe you an abject apology, Mama.” At her questioning look he explained, “I believe I once declared that no heiress was completely impossible.”
    As the meaning of this cryptic remark penetrated, the marchioness protested with a reproving tone in her soft voice.
    “Justin, how can you be so unfair? She is a delightful girl and will present a lovely appearance when we have refurbished her a bit.”
    It was her son’s turn to look pained. “I found her utterly impossible, cold to the point of rudeness, with no looks to speak of and no conversation at all.”
    “Nonsense!” declared the marchioness roundly. “I had no difficulty in drawing her into a conversation, and surely you must admit her voice is beautiful, low pitched, and musical with a fascinating little lilt—due to her Irish ancestry perhaps—and with none of that horrid north country brogue I feared we should have to break her