A Gentleman's Guide to Scandal Read Free Page A

carriage pulled reluctantly to a stop, Elinor turned her skeptical gaze on her companion.
    Phoebe Spenser sat, perched at the very limit of her seat, on the far side of the carriage. She buzzed with energy, her fingers fidgeting in her lap and her teeth nibbling at the inside of her lip.
    Elinor could not claim to be close to Phoebe. They were a full decade apart in age, and Elinor had spent far more time with her elder sisters, Kitty and Marie. After all the kindness Phoebe’s mother had shown her over the years, though, it had been impossible to decline her request that Elinor serve as Phoebe’s unofficial companion and escort during the London Season. The dowager marchioness herself was indisposedwith a bout of existential despair regarding her youngest child’s marriageability, and had decamped to Kitty’s estate to fawn over her young grandson. And of course Elinor had nothing better to do, having no spouse or children or social obligations of her own, so
obviously
she ought to be the one to grapple with Phoebe Spenser’s overinflated sense of adventure and try to steer her toward an eligible man at last.
    â€œWe are here,” Phoebe declared, drawing Elinor’s attention back to the present. “That’s it, just down the way.” She had flung open the door and hopped onto the street before the coachman had the chance to clamber down to assist. Elinor hurried after, nearly tripping on her skirts.
    She was beginning to sympathize a great deal more with Lady Farleigh. Phoebe was positively manic; no wonder the woman had engineered an escape from her. It was like trying to keep up with an excitable terrier. At least the Season was nearly over. She could manage a few more weeks.
    The narrow house Phoebe now hurried toward stood crushed between two brutish tenements, its windows masked with gray curtains. A sign hung outside, creaking ostentatiously in the breeze. Faded paint in a jagged script declared it the home of Madame Vesta. A crudely painted eye glared beneath the words.
    â€œAre you certain this is where you want to be, m’lady?” the coachman asked. Judging by the tremor in his voice, he was thinking of what Lord Farleigh would do if he discovered the location of their afternoon errand.
    â€œApparently so. Wait here,” Elinor said firmly. The coachman touched his cap in acknowledgment, but concern still wrinkled his brow.
    Her moment’s hesitation had attracted the small, grubby child, who took hold of Elinor’s skirt and looked up at her with wide eyes. “Hello,” Elinor said, startled. She held her hands awkwardly at her sides and cast a quick look around for the child’s keeper. It appeared to have none. “Er. I have to go, child.” She started to move away, but the child clung fast.
    Elinor sighed and rummaged in her reticule until she found a small sweet. She had taken to carrying them since hersister-in-law began to increase, as a form of defense against the sudden changes in her moods. It worked far better on the child than on Joan; pressing the sweet into the child’s palm earned her skirt an immediate reprieve, and she left the child struggling to extricate the treat from its paper wrapping. Elinor hurried to join Phoebe, who was dancing foot-to-foot in impatience.
    â€œYou must watch what you say around this woman,” Elinor said as she reached the front steps. “She will try to deceive you.”
    â€œShe has a true gift,” Phoebe said. “You’ll see, Elinor. She’s the most incredible thing. You will be entirely convinced, I promise.” Phoebe knocked lightly on the door. Her whole body seemed to quiver, and her eyes were fever-bright.
    â€œAre you certain this is a good idea?” Elinor asked.
    â€œYou will understand as soon as you speak with her,” Phoebe said, a touch breathless. Elinor stifled a sigh. Phoebe had apparently been coming here for some weeks now, and handing over a