Free Playing to Win by Diane Farr

brows
knitting. "Believe me, sir, this is a subject on which I am
something of an expert. Without the advantages of birth and
breeding, you cannot enter that world."
    His eyes lit with cynical amusement.
"All doors open for Trevor Whitlatch, sweetheart. That's another of
the advantages of wealth. I can look for a bride wherever I choose.
I intend to marry for love, but I also intend to marry wisely.
Noble connections are all I lack. My wife can supply
them."
    "Oh. A titled lady, no
less?"
    "I hope so."
    "Most titled ladies are not born
titled, you know! They have only their husband's
titles."
    He yawned. "I'll marry a titled widow,
then."
    "Well, I hope she arrives with a
quiverful of children!" Clarissa said tartly.
    "Excellent! That would solve your
problem too, wouldn't it? My wife could then employ you as a
governess." He laughed, his eyes raking her again. "Unfortunate
Miss Feeney! No bride in her right mind would let you past the
door, let alone set you up in her household. My titled lady will
have to be blind as well as widowed."
    He expected her to utter some
conventional disclaimer in response to his back-handed compliment.
But Clarissa was not so easily distracted. She did not blush, or
bridle, or deny her beauty. Instead, her frown deepened.
    "Mr. Whitlatch, pray be serious for a
moment! My situation is urgent. I must find immediate
employment."
    "Must you?"
    "Yes! And if you are not married, it is
ridiculous to discuss ways I could, or could not, be useful to your
wife. We must find a way I can be useful to you."
    Some of the heat returned to Mr.
Whitlatch's gaze. "You tempt me, Miss Feeney."
    "I asked you to be serious!" she
scolded, flushing a little.
    A slow smile lit his face. "I am
serious."
    She ignored this lapse of decorum.
"Well? How can I be useful to you? Do you require a housekeeper? I
am very neat, and excessively thrifty."
    The picture of Clarissa in a cap, with
a ring of keys in her apron pocket, was ludicrous. Still, he hated
to quench the hope flickering in her eyes. "I maintain several
establishments, but each of them is run by a respectable,
middle-aged housekeeper. With years of experience, I might
add."
    "Oh." She mulled this over for a
moment, tapping one gloved finger meditatively. "I suppose it isn't
reasonable for me to expect that kind of position at my time of
life. I've no real experience, after all. But I am sure I could
learn."
    "Housekeeping is not a profession that
accepts apprentices," he said drily.
    "No." She looked a bit crestfallen.
"But where does one begin? Would one of your housekeepers employ me
as a housemaid, do you think?"
    "A housemaid?" Exasperation
straightened Mr. Whitlatch's spine and returned his feet to the
floor. "By all means! There's a nice life for you! Or would you
rather I recommend you for a scullerymaid? You may take your pick:
On your knees all day with a rag and a bucket, or up to your elbows
in grease and scalding suds. Which occupation would you prefer,
Miss Feeney?"
    She swallowed. "Well, I—I haven't
thought much about it one way or the other," she said.
    Now she looked utterly forlorn. An
impatient exclamation escaped him. "You haven't thought at all.
Take off your gloves," he said roughly.
    Her eyes widened. "What?"
    "Take off your gloves. Let me see your
hands."
    His tone was peremptory rather than
loverlike. She hesitatingly obeyed. He then took her small, white
hands in his large, brown ones and held them up for
examination.
    "Look at your hands," he commanded her.
"What do you see?"
    She eyed them warily. "Two hands. Ten
fingers. I see nothing remarkable."
    "Do you not? Well, I do. I see two
hands of a quite remarkable softness, Miss Feeney. I see ten
fingers that have never done a hard day's work in the whole course
of their existence."
    The blue eyes flashed. "Well? What of
it?" she said hotly. "Just because I have never done such work does
not mean I could not!"
    He tossed her pretty hands back in her
lap. "But why should you?" he asked