Gallant Waif Read Online Free Page B

It’s not to be thought of. There’s no help for it. You must come and live with me.”
    Come and live with an aristocratic old lady? Who from all appearances moved in the upper echelons of the ton? Who would take her to balls, masquerades, the opera—it had long been a dream, a dream for the old Kate… It was the new Kate’s nightmare.
    For the offer to come now, when it was too late—it was a painful irony in a life she had already found too full of both pain and irony.
    “I thank you for your kind offer, Lady Cahill, but I would not dream of so incommoding you.”
    “Foolish child! What maggot has got into your head? It’s not an invitation you should throw back in my face without thought. Consider what such a proposal would involve. You will have a life appropriate to your birth and take your rightful position in society. I am not offering you a life of servitude and drudgery.”
    “I realise that, ma’am,” said Kate in a low voice. Her rightful position in society was forfeited long ago, in Spain. “None the less, though I thank you for your concern, I cannot accept your very generous invitation.”
    “Don’t you realise what I am offering you, you stupid girl?”
    “Charity,” said Kate baldly.
    “Ah, tush!” said the old lady, angrily waving her hand. “What is charity but a foolish word?”
    “Whether we name it or not, ma’am, the act remains the same,” said the girl with quiet dignity. “I prefer to be beholden to no one. I will earn my own living, but I thank you for your offer.”
    Lady Cahill shook her head in disgust. “Gels of good family earnin’ their own living, indeed! What rubbish! In my day, a gel did what her parents told her and not a peep out of her—and a demmed good whipping if there was!”
    “But, Lady Cahill, you are not my parent. I don’t have to listen to you.”
    “No, you don’t, do you?” Lady Cahill’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Ah, well then, help me to stand, child. My bones are stiff from being jolted along those shockin’ tracks that pass for roads in these parts.”
    Kate, surprised but relieved at the old lady’s sudden capitulation, darted forward. She helped Lady Cahill to her feet and solicitously began to lead her to the door.
    “Thank you, my dear.” Lady Cahill stepped outside. “Where does that lead?” she asked, pointing to a well-worn pathway.
    “To the woods, ma’am, and also to the stream.”
    “Very pleasant, very rural, no doubt, if you like that sort of thing,” said the born city-dweller.
    “Yes, ma’am, I do,” said Kate. “I dearly love a walk through the woods, particularly in the early morning when the dew is still on the leaves and grass and the sun catches it.”
    Lady Cahill stared. “Astonishing,” she murmured. “Well, that’s enough of that. It’s demmed cold out here, almost as cold as in that poky little cottage of yours. We’ll resume our discussion in my coach. At least there I can rest my feet on hot bricks.”
    Kate dropped her arm in surprise. “But I thought…”
    The blue eyes twinkled beadily. “You thought you’d made yourself clear?” Kate nodded.
    “And so you did, my dear. So you did. I heard every word you said. Now, don’t argue with me, girl. The discussion is finished when I say it is and not before. Follow me!”
    Gesturing imperiously, she led the way to the coach and allowed the waiting footman to help her up the steps. Swathed in furs, she supervised as Kate was similarly tucked up with a luxurious fur travelling rug around her, her feet resting snugly on a hot brick. Kate sighed. It seemed ridiculous, sitting in a coach like this, to discuss a proposal she had no intention of accepting, but there was no denying it— the coach was much warmer than the cottage.
    “Comfortable?’*
    “Yes, I thank you,” Kate responded politely. “Lady Cab—”
    The old lady thumped on the roof of the coach with her cane. With a sudden lurch, the coach moved off.
    “What on earth—?”