Loving the Marquess Read Online Free Page B

reverend’s tutelage.
    “And you,” she said, turning to Catherine, “there’s mending
to be done.”
    Catherine wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Someone will miss
the marquess while he is here.”
    She’d been so off-center since his arrival that it hadn’t
occurred to Louisa that Overlea’s grandmother might be expecting him. Everyone
in the area knew he’d been in London for the past few months. The fact he was
here now could only mean he’d been on his way to his country seat, not far from
their cottage. And even if his grandmother hadn’t been expecting him, someone
else would know about his movements and wonder where he was.
    “Maybe we should send a note,” Catherine continued.
    “Yes, of course,” Louisa said. “I’ll speak to Lord Overlea
about that. But for now, off with you.”
    Louisa sat heavily after her sister left the dining room.
Why had she not thought about Overlea’s grandmother? She would need to be told
where he was. What was wrong with her?
    But she knew exactly what was wrong with her. He was.
Nicholas Manning, the new Marquess of Overlea, muddled her thinking. Confused
her. That kiss upstairs was clear proof of that. She never should have allowed
it, let alone permitted it to go as far as it had. She would have immediately
put a stop to his liberties if it had been anyone else, but Overlea had a
strange effect on her. One she did not like.
    * * *
* *
    The soft chiming of the sitting room clock interrupted
Louisa’s concentration. She looked up from the sewing in her lap to see that it
was already noon. Catherine had long since abandoned the mending to go work in
the garden. It was her favorite place to be, and now that autumn was upon them
and the gardening season was coming to an end, she spent most of her free time
outside.
    Louisa looked down at the morning dress she was working on,
admiring the pale green muslin. Since her father’s illness, she’d supported her
family by taking in sewing. She didn’t earn enough for extras, but at least the
necessities were covered. She hadn’t mentioned it to either of her siblings,
but most of the sewing she took in was for the family who was responsible for
their diminished situation. The dress to which she was currently adding the
finishing trim was for Overlea’s cousin, Mary Manning.
    She couldn’t be sure why the family allowed Louisa to make
some of her dresses. They certainly had enough money to use only the finest
modistes in London. While they did just that for the majority of Mary Manning’s
clothing, Overlea’s aunt liked having Louisa make some of her daughter’s day
dresses. Louisa tried to convince herself that Elizabeth Manning did so to make
amends in some small way for how her husband had ruined the Evans family and
did her best to ignore the small voice that whispered the older woman had no
such motives. That, instead, she enjoyed flaunting their position of
superiority over Louisa’s family. In the end, Elizabeth Manning’s motivation
didn’t matter since Louisa relied heavily on the income her sewing brought in.
    Unable to resist, she stood and held the dress against her.
Closing her eyes, she twirled once, imagining what it would be like to own such
a dress again instead of the dull, serviceable gowns she normally wore.
    She opened her eyes and sighed deeply. She was being
frivolous, hoping for things that could never be.
    “That color suits you, Miss Evans.”
    Louisa spun around to find Overlea standing in the sitting
room doorway, one shoulder propped casually against the door frame. His glance
swept over her and heat rose to her cheeks. She started to raise a hand to her
hair, conscious of the tendrils that had escaped their pins, but stopped short.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    To give herself time to regain her composure, she folded the
dress with care and placed it on the settee next to the sewing basket before
facing Overlea again.
    He seemed to be studying her. “Is something the matter?” he
asked