Just One Season in London Read Online Free Page B

dowry to be acceptable to you. But I think as long as you’re not unreasonable, we can fit you up nicely. What do you think, Portia? Summersby’s eldest, perhaps?”
    â€œI am unaware of any assets that make Lord Ryecroft eligible—apart from his title. Therefore, I’m sure you are a far better judge of the matter than I could be, ma’am.” Miss Langford’s tone was almost colorless.
    Rye knew she was only doing what a companion did best—agreeing with her employer and deferring to her opinion. Besides, what she said was no more than the truth. How would Miss Langford know anything of his family, his character, his habits, his assets? Yet the words rankled.
    â€œRyecroft could grab her before the rest of the young bucks have the opportunity,” Lady Stone said thoughtfully. “Her coming-out ball is still a couple of weeks away, and as yet she’s barely been seen outside Berkeley Square. Or perhaps he’d do better with the Mickelthorpe girl. Hers is not as well-bred a family, of course, but that might be all to the good. It’s a much larger step upward for her to become a viscountess than for the Summersby chit, so she’ll appreciate it more. And she has an even larger portion, I understand.”
    â€œI’m certain she would be honored to be chosen,” Miss Langford agreed.
    Rye sketched an ironic bow at Lady Stone. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea? Once I escape from this harpy , he thought, I will never set foot near Grosvenor Square again !
    â€œCome, girl.” Lady Stone turned on her heel and marched up the nearest set of steps without bothering to check whether her companion was following.
    The younger woman obeyed without so much as a glance at Rye—and without a hint of resentment or irritation. Of course, when her employer issued an order, no matter what the words or the tone, a companion had no option but to comply.
    She was half a dozen feet away from him, with one foot already on the lowest step, when Rye said, “Miss Langford.” He had no idea why he’d spoken, except that the careless note in the old woman’s voice had jolted him.
    She paused and half turned to face him, her head tilted to one side. Her foot was still on the step. He noticed how small her foot was and the slenderness of her ankle in the high-buttoned boot.
    â€œI crave your pardon, Miss Langford, for any difficulty this incident might cause with your employer. I hope she does not blame you.”
    â€œHow kind of you to notice.” The irony that laced her voice was deft, almost delicate. “But of course, whether she blames me or not, you’ll still call on Lady Stone tomorrow—because she can help you choose the richest heiress.”
    It wasn’t really a question, and he didn’t owe her an answer, anyway. Who was she to question his motives or his reasons? But before Rye could even consider explaining, she had reached the top of the stairs, and the door closed firmly behind her.
    At least now he knew which house was Lady Stone’s.
    And tomorrow Lady Stone expected he would come to give her his specifications for a bride. Namely, how much money an heiress must bring with her in order to become the next Viscountess Ryecroft.
    Well, Lady Stone would be disappointed—for he would not appear tomorrow.
    Except, he reminded himself, there was still Sophie to think of—and his mother—and that left him with no choice but to comply.

Three
    Lord Randall’s ponderous efforts to make them welcome set Miranda’s teeth on edge. She felt easily eighty years old because of the way he tucked her solicitously into a chair and inquired whether she would like a hot brick or a shawl or a tisane to help her recover from the long journey.
    The way he treated Sophie, though entirely different, was not much better. He kept apologizing for his horse and assuring Sophie that riding was the best pastime in the world.