Free Miss Pymbroke's Rules by Rosemary Stevens

from Louisa with obvious reluctance. “I am not moving from this spot until Mrs. Barrington says she will be at the Foxworths’ breakfast tomorrow.”
    Louisa gave a practiced trill of laughter. “La, sir, I have not been invited anywhere yet.”
    “What has that to say to anything, my dear Mrs. Barrington? I daresay Lady Iris has received a card, and as her guest you must be included. Say you will go, else I shall stand in Brydges Street all night,” Sir Ramsey warned.
    Louisa cast him a coy look. “Very well, I shall attend, but only if you give me your escort. Lady Iris may have sent her regrets, and I should not like you to wait for me in vain. You might find another lady upon whom to bestow your attentions.”
    “Never!” Sir Ramsey assured her. “I shall consider it an honor to escort you and shall call for you at three.” With a final bow he turned and walked toward his own carriage, whistling a jaunty tune as he went.
    Inside Lord Carrisworth’s comfortable coach, Verity drew in her breath sharply. Louisa’s behavior was really too bad. Before long, if her sister was not careful, she would be labeled fast.
    Louisa settled in the seat next to Verity, and the coach set out over the cobblestone streets. Presently, Verity was brought out of her musings by the marquess. “Did you enjoy the play, Miss Pymbroke?” he asked quietly.
    Verity’s innate honesty forced her to be candid. “Yes, my lord. I confess it was like nothing I have ever experienced. I felt transported to another time and place. It was delightful.”
    “And would you not agree, the actresses savor their performances onstage? That they consider what they do an art?”
    Verity looked up to see if he was taunting her. But his face merely reflected a polite interest. “They seem proud of their profession,” she admitted. “No wonder they would not listen to my urgings for them to find another means of making their living.”
    Louisa broke her silence to ask incredulously, “You’ve been moralizing to a group of actresses? How could you be so silly, Verity?”
    Verity’s hands twisted the strings of her reticule. “Father left us for an actress ...” she whispered.
    “Lud, that wasn’t Mary Jennings’s fault. Father had his own weaknesses and made his own decisions,” Louisa stated with the air of one to whom the matter had long since been resolved.
    “Mary Jennings, was that her name?” Verity asked, the likeness painted on the miniature springing into her mind.
    “She was the one named at the time by the tattlebearers,” Louisa replied with a yawn.
    Lord Carrisworth said gently, “Miss Pymbroke, most of the actresses have no home to return to, no family capable of providing for them. And, as you saw tonight, even if they did, they would probably choose to remain where they are. Think on it and see if you can still find it in your heart to condemn them.”
    Verity experienced a gamut of perplexing emotions. Under the marquess’s steady scrutiny, she could barely think. This serious side to him caused her heart to beat hard.
    For some reason, when he spoke thoughtfully, she found his appeal much stronger. When he was clearly flirting, she found it much easier to resist his charms. This glimpse of a sincere, unaffected demeanor drew her to him, frightening her.
    She was grateful when the coach stopped in front of Lady Iris’s and could have screamed in frustration when Louisa asked his lordship to share their tea tray and the invitation was accepted.
    Entering the drawing room, the party found Lady Iris sitting on the dark blue settee, attended by the sisters’s maid, Beecham.
    Her ladyship took one look at Verity’s gown and stomped her cane on the floor so hard that Empress, curled in her mistress’s lap, awoke with a start. The cat jumped from Lady Iris’s lap to the floor, her slanted blue eyes glaring at the company in reproach for this disturbance.
    “By Jupiter, Verity, how could you have gone to the theater dressed