High Society novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Breakfast With the Earl

Lord Marchbank was a tall thin man with silver hair and a gold-topped cane.

He had the softest voice I had ever heard from a rich man, and it frightened me more than shouting would have.

"Lady Charlotte," he said, bowing over my gloved hand.

"What a pleasure."

"I did not know Denholm had a sister until Tuesday."

"He did not know either," I said.

"I was raised in Cornwall by a woman who told me my father drowned."

I had practised it twice in the mirror.

It came out sounding like a complaint, which was exactly right.

Behind the Earl, a small girl with brown ringlets curtsied to me and then looked at the tablecloth.

She was Lady Rosamund, the daughter I was meant to save Hugh from, and she looked like a woman waiting for a hanging.

"Rosamund, sit up," said her father.

She sat up.

"Rosamund, do not fidget."

She stopped fidgeting.

I began to dislike him in earnest.

We sat at a table laid with eggs and ham and a silver rack of toast.

Tilly, in a borrowed white apron, poured the tea.

Her hands shook once, and a drop fell on the cloth.

"That child's hands are filthy," said the Earl pleasantly.

"She has been with me four hours," I said.

"They were clean in Cornwall."

"I am sure they were."

He buttered his toast.

"I understand there was a disturbance in Southwark yesterday," he said to Hugh.

"My agent tells me you drove away from Mill Court with a laundress."

Hugh did not even put down his cup.

"A laundress who nearly lost her skin to your constables," he said.

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