Free A Poor Relation by Carola Dunn Page A

over in his lean, tanned fingers. “To tell the truth, I have not the first notion how to set about it,” he confessed with a laugh. “I hope Miss Grove will not be too displeased with me.”
    “Not for that, at least,” she said cryptically. He watched in admiration as she quickly reassembled the octahedron.
    “Like the puzzle, there is more to you than meets the eye. Show me how to do it, if you please. I will not confess myself beaten by a few scraps of wood.”
    She had scarce begun to take it apart again when Millicent called a question to the earl. With a word of apology he left her.
    She watched him. He was a splendid sight in his dark brown coat and close-fitting buckskins, broad shouldered, well-muscled, his dark hair slightly ruffled. What had he meant by his remark, that there was more to her than met the eye? At best, it indicated his lack of regard for her appearance, so it might be construed as an insult. She knew he had not intended it that way. He was a straightforward man, uncomprehending of deviousness.
    She was prepared to wager that he had not recognized the spite in Millicent’s behaviour. He had acted out of politeness, and perhaps compassion for Rowena’s unhappy situation, not in disgust at her cousin’s unkindness.
    The Chinese puzzle fell to pieces in her agitated fingers. In a mute gesture of defiance she left the parts scattered on the window seat.
    The latest issue of the Ladies’ Magazine lay on a nearby table. She picked it up and was riffling through it disconsolately when a page of advertisements caught her eye. Among the pleas for governesses able to teach French, embroidery and deportment were several requesting applications from respectable, active young women to companion elderly dowagers. Clutching the magazine, Rowena slipped unnoticed from the room and went up to her chamber to write some letters.
    Being a paid companion could not possibly be worse than living at her cousin’s beck and call. At least she would have a little money in her pocket, and surely a half day off now and then.
    Millicent had deliberately humiliated her before a dozen people. It was not the first time, but today Lord Farleigh had been there. Somehow that made it much worse.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    “People will stare if Rowena accepts any invitations.” Millicent helped herself lavishly from a dish of asparagus. “She is in mourning still, and for her father, not some distant relative.”
    “I must not dance, of course,” Rowena said, “but I cannot think it would be disrespectful to go into company. I shall not be in mourning much longer.”
    For once Aunt Hermione backed her. “A number of people have specifically named Rowena on their invitations, though they must know she is in mourning. It would be shocking to offend our neighbours by refusing.”
    “I daresay the others meant to include her in the family,” Anne put in.
    This drew Millicent’s ire. “Anne has not made her come out in London yet. It is not at all proper for her to go to parties before she has her Season.”
    “You did,” protested her sister. “Besides, I am not at all sure that I want a Season, yet I do not mean to be a hermit all my life.”
    “I am not surprised that you do not want a Season. Antidotes have a miserable time of it in London, watching everyone else dancing.”
    This was too much even for Aunt Hermione’s prejudiced mind. “Millicent, that was unkind.” In her agitation, she reached for the parsley potatoes. “It will not hurt for Anne to attend a few informal gatherings. Indeed it will be better for her to be comfortable among friends before she is presented to Society, since she cannot expect your instant success.”
    “Enough!” Sir Henry, who had been steadily eating his way through an extraordinary quantity of dinner for so thin a man, for once took a hand in his family’s affairs. “Rowena and Anne shall both attend those events to which they are invited and I don’t want to hear