Free The Incomparable Miss Compton by Regina Scott Page A

down the bed clothes on her blue-hung four-poster bed when she entered her room.
    “Miss Persy thought you might have a need for my services, Miss Sarah,” she explained with a bob of a curtsy. A tiny black-haired girl a year younger than Persephone, she nevertheless had cultivated a reputation for being a knowing one. Still, Sarah was glad for the help for once. It was obvious Persephone was trying to make amends.
    “Some help with my tapes would be very welcome,” Sarah acknowledged, turning so the girl could apply deft fingers to the task of unhooking the blue silk gown.
    “Let me help you with your nightdress as well,” the little maid admonished as she finished with the gown. She bustled to the dresser and opened the drawers until she found a white lawn gown. In the meantime, Sarah pulled off her dress and chemise and loosened her stays. Before she could have counted to ten, Lucy had her in the nightdress and perched before the dressing table, where she took down and brushed out Sarah’s long, thick, straight hair.
    “I could crimp this for you,” Lucy offered, letting the strands run through her fingers. “We could set up the curls real easy. It would draw attention to your speaking eyes.”
    Sarah caught herself wondering how Malcolm Breckonridge would react to her hair in curls around her face. Letting Lucy apply the hot crimping irons to her locks would definitely be worth it if she won that look of warmth again when he called.
    If he called.
    “I could help you in other ways as well,” Lucy continued, watching her in the mirror. “I was told I have a lovely hand. Perhaps I could help you with your correspondence, like to Mr. Compton.”
    Sarah stiffened, then turned to confront the maid. “Is that what this is all about? Persy’s afraid I’ll write to her father about her behavior. She sent you to stop me.”
    “Oh, no, mum,” Lucy protested, green eyes wide. “Heavens no, mum. Why would you think so?”
    Sarah stood. “Perhaps because Persy’s never seen fit to share your services with me before. Nor have you ever seemed so eager to help. Good night, Lucy. You may tell your mistress that I will keep my own counsel, thank you very much. And if I want my hair crimped, I can jolly well do it myself, like I do everything else.”
    The maid ducked out, and Sarah stalked to the bed and climbed in. Lucy was new to the household, having only arrived when Persephone was graduated from school. The maid could not know how easily Persy manipulated people. Sarah would have to mention Lucy’s behavior to Timmons. The rest of the staff was immune to the girl’s tantrums and tearful entreaties. If Sarah wanted to keep the household running smoothly, she would have to find a way to teach Lucy to think for herself. Once one stood up to Persy, her cousin often stopped attempting to manipulate.
    She plumped the goose feather pillow and lay down her head. Did anyone stop to wonder about the woman who made sure Persephone’s life ran smoothly? If others knew the story of her background, she was certain they would believe she must harbor a deep resentment of her cousin. Persy had been given all the attention, while Sarah had worked harder than most nursemaids. Yet she could not regret her time away from London. In the quiet of the Suffolk countryside, she knew she had grown from a timid, gawkish teenager to a self-confident woman. Ministering to Persephone had taught her patience and presence of mind. As she read to pass the time, she learned things she might never have known. With no one to talk to on her lonely night vigils, she had learned to fill her mind with her own thoughts and to listen for the thoughts of God. She had also learned to analyze what she read by firelight and form her own opinions. Hadn’t Lord Breckonridge praised her for that tonight?
    And there she was thinking of him again. Small wonder he was a force in Parliament. He had certainly mesmerized her. She could not remember his thick black