Just One Season in London Read Online Free Page A

hand.
    â€œWhat’s this, Portia?” said a gravelly voice beside him.
    Rye felt as if he’d been drifting away on a slowly ebbing tide until the grating voice jolted him back to the square. Too late, he realized he was standing far too close to the unknown young woman—closer even than if they had been waltzing—and that she hadn’t been alone in the carriage after all.
    The woman who had followed her was short and spry, with a beady black gaze that rested on him with a familiar glint.
    â€œLady Stone!” he said. “I… I was just…”
    The young woman pursed her lips as if she was anxious to hear his answer. Rye stumbled to a halt.
    â€œAccosting my companion?” Lady Stone said coolly.
    Companion. So she was not a friend or a relative, but an employee. It all made sense now. The young woman’s plain hat and cloak and the way her hair was styled so as not to draw attention to herself. Even the freckles—they were far more typical on the face of a woman who was expected to go and fetch her employer’s parasol rather than being free to twirl her own. A woman who would read aloud the books her employer wished to hear, not those of her own taste. Who would run her employer’s errands, not shop for herself.
    He let his hand drop to his side and stepped back from the young lady—quickly enough, he hoped, that Lady Stone wouldn’t begin to think her companion was at fault and blame the poor girl. Portia , Lady Stone had called her. It suited her somehow. But now was not the time to be thinking of that.
    Accosting my companion… Lady Stone had sounded almost angry. Was an accident with a bunch of violets about to cause him to lose his one real hope of bettering himself? Sacrificing the only source of help that had been offered to him? Better that, he supposed, than if the companion were to suffer because of his clumsiness. At least he would be no worse off because of their encounter, while her situation might be dire indeed.
    â€œI beg your pardon, Lady Stone,” he said. “I was calling to leave my card to let you know that I’ve arrived in town, when I… encountered… your companion.”
    â€œ Encountered? Is that what you young bucks are calling it these days when you’re practically embracing a young woman on the pavement?”
    â€œI assure you, ma’am, I was not—”
    â€œLady Stone,” the companion said quietly. “Nothing happened. The… gentleman… moves very quickly.”
    It didn’t sound to Rye as if she meant it as a compliment.
    â€œOh, very well. If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened. But be warned, I’m keeping an eye on you, girl.” The old woman’s gaze raked over Rye, from the hat he had belatedly touched in respect, to the toes of his well-polished Hessians. “I wondered if you’d actually turn up, Ryecroft. But here you are, and looking as impressive in daylight as you were at the assembly. Don’t you think so, Portia?”
    â€œSince I did not attend the assembly, ma’am, I am unable to make a comparison. But if you are asking me in the abstract whether the gentleman is attractive, I should have to agree that he makes a passable figure.”
    What a prim, smug, opinionated, conceited … Rye ran out of adjectives.
    â€œThere’s a facer for you, Ryecroft.” Lady Stone made a vague gesture of introduction. “Viscount Ryecroft, Miss Langford.”
    Rye swept the companion a bow. “I am honored by your regard, Miss Langford.” He managed to let only a trace of sarcasm oil his words. But he knew she’d heard the edge in his voice, for she inclined her head and made no comment.
    Lady Stone said, “I’ll expect you to call tomorrow morning, Ryecroft. Be ready to tell me exactly what you’re looking for in a bride. There’s no sense in wasting time with girls who haven’t enough of a