Free The Secretary by Meg Brooke Page B

and then you’ll have to claim your proud heritage.”
    Anders blinked at her. He had never met a woman before who knew as much as Miss Martin about British politics let alone those on the continent. “Yes,” he managed. He was in the process of making a rather foolhardy decision. But there was no one to tell him no, and he felt a great desire to do a good turn for this woman he barely knew. He made up his mind. Then he cleared his throat. “Miss Martin,” he said, “as you are fond of Shakespeare, I wonder whether you wouldn’t like to join my party at the theatre on Tuesday night. They are all good friends, and I think you would enjoy the play. It is Two Gentlemen of Verona , I believe.”
    She appeared to consider it for quite some time before she said, “I would like that very much, My Lord.”
    “Excellent,” he said, rising. “I must be on my way, but my carriage will be outside at nine o’clock on Tuesday.”
    “Thank you, My Lord,” she said, and she escorted him the three steps to the door.
     
    Clarissa closed the door behind the earl and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t recognized her. And because she had already spent so much time with him as Clarence Ford, she had been less befuddled by his winning smiles and deep gray eyes than she might have been if this had truly been their first meeting. She had managed to be composed and calm, which had probably helped her to keep from giving anything away.
    She leaned back against the door. She had been cool and collected, yes, but that didn’t mean she had been unaffected by his penetrating stares. But he had done the one thing that truly made her melt, though she knew it was ridiculous that it should do so: he had praised her father. And in addition, he had not scoffed at her thirst for knowledge. It was fortunate, however, that he had not noticed the volumes of Wordsworth and Byron that hid among the more scholarly tomes on her shelf—as much as she loved the writings of the great thinkers, there was also a part of her that hungered for magic and beauty. She knew that there were many young women who eagerly devoured the works of the romantic poets. She was just glad he did not know she was one of them.
    When did you become so ashamed to be a woman? she asked herself.
    No matter. As she replayed their conversation in her head, she realized that she now had bigger things to worry about. Had she truly agreed to go to the theatre with him? She was sure Lord Sidney would also be one of the party, and perhaps the odious Marquis of Cayleigh as well. Would either of them recognize her? She had had trouble enough pretending to arrange this meeting between Lord Stowe and Miss Martin, going back and forth until a time had been agreed upon. Could she truly maintain the pretense for a whole evening?
    She wouldn’t have agreed at all, but it had been so long since she had gone anywhere . At least he had not invited her to dine beforehand. That would give her some time after they had finished work for the day to rush home and change back into herself.
    But what on earth was she to wear?
    She would have to visit Simms Variety Goods again, Clarissa decided as she began picking up the tea things.
     
     

SEVEN
     
    February 4, 1833
     
    “Listen,” Leo said as he and Anders rode down Rotten Row early the next morning. “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday, about Georgina and Maris.”
    “It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” Anders laughed. “I know my duty, and I’m glad to do it. I was glad to do it when Eleanor came out last year, too. But I think you nearly gave Bain an apoplexy.”
    “He did look rather red, didn’t he? Truly, you don’t even have to dance with them if you don’t wish to. I know how unbearably exuberant they can be, and they’re my sisters.”
    “I don’t mind in the least, Leo. But your mother must understand that I’m not looking for a mere slip of a girl as a bride, and neither is Bain. There are plenty of