Miss Lindel's Love Read Online Free Page B

woman’s aches and pains. When do you and your mother go to London?”
    “Not for some weeks yet. There’s so much to be done. We were choosing dress lengths this afternoon. Mother has put by some beautiful things.”
    “I’ve always said she’s a sensible creature at bottom. There’s no sense in waiting until the last moment then finding what you want can’t be had. Or if it can, the price is such that none but a fool would buy. How many dresses are you to have, child?”
    “I don’t quite know. Most will be made up by a London modiste but Sophie and I are to have at least three apiece.”
    “Sophie?”
    “She is to go to my uncle in the north but we thought it high time she had a few new gowns.”
    “You mean you thought so.” Miss Menthrip laid one finger alongside her beaky nose, her lace mitten hiding the wrinkled backs of her hands. “You’re a good girl, Maris. Don’t let London go to your head.”
    “I won’t,” Maris promised but Miss Menthrip did not look convinced.
    “I’ve seen it far too often. A sweet-natured girl goes up to town and she comes back much the worse for it. They get giddy on too many parties and too much pleasure. They can’t settle down again to the quiet country life. They lead their families a pretty dance and woe betide the poor fool who marries them.”
    “I’ll be careful.”
    Miss Menthrip patted Maris’s hand. “You’re a sensible child. I shan’t waste sleep over you. If you’d care to scribble a line or two to me from time to time, just to tell me how you are getting on, I shan’t mind paying the postman for it. Now you go along and talk to the young ones.”
    Maris stood up thankfully and dipped a little curtsy, then, moved by some impulse, she bent down and dropped a swift kiss on the old woman’s cheek. “I promise I’ll be as commonsensical as I possibly can.”
    “Mercy, child,” Miss Menthrip said, startled, patting her cheek. “Run away, run away.”
    When Maris looked back, Miss Menthrip was smiling, even as she was waving her cane at another victim.
     

Chapter Three
     
    No one, not the most experienced adult, not the most well-informed friend, had prepared her for the enormity that was London. Napoleon, the hobgoblin under Britannia’s bed, the dark shadow in the garden, the terror of every maiden lady, was banished forever and London’s relief made for the gayest, giddiest Season since the Romans left.
    Every time Maris walked out from their fashionably placed hired residence, her head turned as though on gimbals until Mrs. Lindel had to give her ahint. “Nothing marks a girl out as being from the country more than gawking at all the sights. A true London lady never pays any attention to the things she sees. Pointing and staring is expected of common idlers, not ladies.”
    After that, Maris tried to see everything out of the corners of her eyes. It was thus, while riding in an open carriage to the milliners, that she saw Lord Danesby striding along Bond Street. He wore the latest mode of gentlemen’s attire, complete with curly brimmed hat, yet it was unmistakably he. Though she would have sworn she made no overt sign of startlement, Mrs. Paladin noticed at once.
    “What is it, dear Maris?” she asked, turning her feathered head to look behind them.
    “I thought I saw someone I—I know.”
    “Ah. A friend?”
    “An acquaintance. No, not even that. We have never actually met.”
    “You intrigue me. Doesn’t she intrigue you, Lilah?”
    “I’m sorry, Mother. I wasn’t attending.” Lilah Paladin was a girl whose beauty depended very much on the angle at which one saw her. From some views, she was remarkably pretty, with a straight nose, good cheekbones, and a rather sweet brow line. From other angles, her nose appeared too large, her jawline too full, and over all entirely too much like her formidable mother. From all views, her thick honey-colored hair was her finest feature.
    This was Lilah’s second Season. Maris had