Free The Pleasure Trap by Elizabeth Thornton

them across the vast marble hall. The decorators, she said, were in the other wing of the house getting the picture gallery ready for her niece’s come-out ball. The masons were outside erecting scaffolding to point the bricks, or whatever one did to bricks, in the same wing of the house, to correct and prevent water damage. They’d promised to get the work done before dear Liza arrived. But who could trust workmen to keep their promises in these free and easy times?
    The house was an odd mix of old and new but charming for all that, in Ash’s opinion. What had started as a stolid Tudor manor had been added to and refurbished as tastes changed in succeeding generations. There were always improvements under way at the Manor, always workmen tearing down walls and putting up new ones.
    And why not,
thought Ash. As one husband had succeeded the next, Lady Sayers had become immensely rich. She could afford to indulge her tastes.
    She led them to the east wing of the house, the neoclassical and most recent addition. From the silk-covered walls, portraits of her four dearly departed husbands stared down on them, imposing figures all, though, according to their widow, charming, lovable rogues in their day.
    The room they entered was the music room, as was evident from the grand pianoforte at one end and the golden harp in a window embrasure. Ash took in the scene at a glance. Eve was standing at a table on which was set out an array of fans. The lady sitting at the harp was Mrs. Contini. Her sepulchral appearance was made all the more ghastly, in his opinion, by the rouge Lydia Rivers was applying to her wan cheeks. Another lady, whom he took to be Miss Claverley, was embroidering by an open window.
    Lady Sayers let out a warning laugh. “Look, my dears, we have company.”
    There was a moment of profound silence, almost a shocked silence. In spite of Lady Sayers’s assurances, their entrance had evidently come at a bad time. Mrs. Contini began to scrub at her cheeks with a handkerchief, Mrs. Rivers fluffed out her skirts and gave Ash a bold smile, and Eve Dearing dropped the fan she was holding and stared at him as though King George himself had come calling.
    Ash knew a lot more about Lady Sayers’s guests since his visit to Leigh Fleming, and his gaze touched briefly on each one as Fleming’s words came back to him. Lydia Rivers was desperate for attention; Miss Claverley was fey; Anna Contini preferred animals to people; and Eve Dearing…His gaze lingered.
    She lifted her head and their eyes met. For one charged, lightning moment, they stared at each other, then the dowager spoke and the moment passed.
    “We met at the symposium,” said the dowager, smiling at each young woman in turn, “and I must say that you made quite an impression on me. Isn’t that so, Amanda?”
    Amanda readily agreed that this was so.
    Her ladyship went on. “I simply wanted to thank you in person for the many hours of pleasure your books have given me.”
    And that, thought Ash, was an example of why his grandmother was popular. She had the knack of putting people at their ease. He corrected himself. It wasn’t a knack. She could always find something good to say about people. A few minutes in her company was as good as a tonic.
    Unless you happened to be her grandson. Then she could make you squirm with shame.
    Lady Sayers rang the bell for refreshments and bade them all be seated. The conversation turned almost immediately to her niece, Liza.
    “My brother’s daughter, you know,” said Lady Sayers. “She should be here any day now. I haven’t seen her in years. She was always an awkward child, but her mother tells me that she has grown into a lovely young lady.” She flashed Eve a warm smile. “Eve and her aunt, Miss Claverley,” she nodded to the middle-aged lady who was embroidering, “have agreed to stay on and keep me company.”
    The girl, thought Ash, must be a handful if she needed three chaperons to keep her in check. He