Page 36 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
A strangled laugh erupted from him. Gran was wrong. He didn’t know how to be better—not without sacrificing his soul to respectability.
And he would be damned before he ever didthat.
Chapter Ten
On her first morning at Halstead Hall, Maria stood in front of the tarnished silver mirror in her bedchamber, tugging at the bodice of the ghastly red gown. “Is there nothing you can do to bring the neckline up, Betty?” she asked the maid who was plaiting her hair.
“Oh! I plumb forgot, miss.” Betty scurried over to pick up something she’d laid on a chair when she’d first entered. “Lady Minerva said you could use her pelerine if you want.” She draped the wide lace collar over Maria’s bodice and fastened the little button. “She said to tell you how sorry she was that she had no clothes to fit you, but this might help.”
“It’s very kind of her.” Maria gazed at her image and sighed. “A pity that it makes the gown only slightly less vulgar.”
“Yes, miss.” The girl colored. “I-I mean, no, miss.”
Betty was awfully skittish for a servant. Ever since she’dcome in early to find Maria making up the bed, she’d been anxious. She kept fluttering about, trying to help Maria do things she could do perfectly well on her own, getting even more agitated when Maria insisted on doing them.
“Say what you really think about the gown, Betty. It’s fine.”
“You look very pretty in it.”
Maria snorted. “The only one who thinks that is your master.” And that was only because the wicked devil clearly had a fondness for well-displayed bosoms.
She couldn’t meet with an investigator dressed like this—he would never take her concerns seriously. Not to mention he would assume that she and Oliver were . . . intimate. Especially if Oliver kept casting her those heated glances.
She swallowed. Nathan had always given her brotherly looks, whereas Oliver made her feel naked whenever he raked those dark eyes down her body. How horrible was it that she didn’t mind that nearly as much as she should?
Then there were his heady kisses. Her cheeks heated at the memory of his lips gliding over hers, of his warm mouth doing scandalous things that even now turned her knees wobbly. Heavens alive, why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? She’d tossed and turned half the night, reliving every second in his arms. It was ridiculous! It meant nothing to him. And itshouldmean nothing to her; she had a fiancé!
A fiancé who’d never kissed her anything like that.
When she grimaced, Betty said, “Itisa shame aboutyour clothes, miss. Lady Minerva told us about the storm at sea that ruined even the gown you were wearing. I daresay the gown that the dressmaker loaned you isn’t much better.”
Maria had to bite back a laugh. Clearly Lady Minerva was adept at spinning all sorts of tales. Now she would have to find out what reason Oliver’s sister had given for a dressmaker’s loaning her a gown. She couldn’t very well ask Betty.
“Lady Celia also said you could use her knit scarf with your redingote if you like. She said as how you looked cold when you came in yesterday.”
Tears stung Maria’s eyes. Oliver’s sisters were so kind. She’d never had sisters and it touched her deeply that they were treating her like one. “Tell her thank you, if you will.”
“Of course, miss.” A long silence ensued as Betty concentrated on pinning her plait in place. After a while, she said, “I hope you slept well, miss.”
“Yes, very well,” she lied.
“The hard bed didn’t bother you?”
“Compared to her bed at home, it had been a cloud. “No.”
“I know it’s musty smelling, but we didn’t have time to air out the bedchamber properly yesterday. Tonight will be better.”
A laugh swelled in her throat. How could anyone possibly improve on a room fit for a princess?
Everything in it suffered from age. The linens were frayed, the chairs creaked when she sat on them, and theupholstery was quite worn. All the silver in the room was tarnished black.
But it wassilver,for pity’s sake—silver frames, silver sconces, a silver mirror with a matching dressing table also ornamented in real silver. The embroidered hangings on the massive canopied bed were red cut velvet held by rope ties of silver and gold thread, and every inch of wood had once been heavily gilded. Even the faded rug had an elaborate court scene woven into it. It must originally have been intended for a guest of far higher status than her.
Is that why Mrs. Plumtree had put her in this room? To intimidate her? Or had the woman thought it would reinforce what she’d already said about Oliver’s difficult finances?
Little did Mrs. Plumtree know that Maria would happily live in the English version of a rundown house, ifthisis what it was. She loved the place already. It was pretty yet Gothic, crumbling yet stately, like a grand old dame whose fine bone structure and translucent skin never went out of fashion. She now understood how Lady Minerva managed to bring such places to life in her books. She lived in one.
“You must be very pleased to be marrying his lordship,” Betty said.
