A Kiss in the Dark Read Free Page A

a cow and play at being a milkmaid. It seemed hard that such a simple request should be denied her when Lady Dauntry had promised her the cottage. She returned below when she heard a commotion in the hallway. Miss Wantage and Beau had arrived, the former pale and frowning, propped up by the latter.
    Miss Wantage was that unfortunate creature, the poor relation. To add to her woes, she was an aging spinster. She made her home in Bath with Mrs. Barnstable, another cousin, but no one could endure her for twelve months of the year. For six months she was palmed off on anyone who would have her, in three-month leases. Cressida’s turn had come. It was either have her for the summer, or be lumbered with her in autumn for the little Season. Knowing that Miss Wantage was an ardent foe of any sort of entertainment, Cressida had opted for the summer.
    It was a mystery how Miss Wantage, whose second claim to fame after her religiosity was that she never ate, had grown to such ample proportions. Her face was as wide as a platter. Her blue eyes bore the glow of the religious fanatic, and her lips the accompanying pinched look of disapproval. Her pale brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun and covered with a plain muslin cap. Adornment was abhorrent to the Lord, and certainly to Miss Wantage. Her blue cambric round gown had no ornament save a simple silver cross worn on a black shoelace.
    “I am rattled to a heap,” she said weakly. “I should have gone with you in the phaeton after all, Cressie. At least I would have had fresh air, even if I had been blown to pieces by the wicked sea gales. Just show me to a litter or a truckle bed, and I shall lie down out of your way.”
    Cressida accompanied her abovestairs. “I have put you in the Green Room,” Cressida said. “It is the best room and has a lovely view of the sea. I shall have Mrs. Armstrong bring you something to eat.”
    “I could not eat a bite! You can send her up to me. Perhaps a bit of black tea and some toast, to settle my stomach. My, it is chilly in here!” she exclaimed, shivering. “Odd you did not have a fire laid, but there. You are young and healthy and would not have thought of it. Pay no heed to me.”
    “I shall ask Mrs. Armstrong to light the fire while she is here.”
    Miss Wantage felt the bed, found the feather tick lumpy, and when she had changed into her nightie (after first asking Cressida to just step outside for a moment) detected a wicked draft from the windows. “Perhaps if you would just close those dusty old window hangings, it will cut down on the wind,” she suggested, and climbed into bed, drawing the counterpane up to her chin.
    Cressida finally escaped to return below to welcome Beau, after first sending Mrs. Armstrong up to Miss Wantage. Beau Montgomery was actually her first cousin, but he had spent summers at Tanglewood after his parents died and was like a young brother to her. Just down from Oxford, he was enjoying a summer of leisure before taking over his estate in Kent, close to Tanglewood.
    Despite his long, lean build and interest in matters of toilette, he had no air of the aesthete. His ruddy complexion and bright eyes spoke of a love of the outdoors. The bane of his existence was a crown of golden curls. He wished for black hair, straight for choice, to lend him an air of diablerie. Looked like a dashed girl, with that curl forever tumbling over his forehead.
    “This is the last time I undertake a trip with that whiner,” he said with great feeling. “We had to stop every mile while she settled her stomach. If it was not hartshorn, it was taking her medicine, which had a decided aroma of rum, I might add. If you want my opinion, it was the macaroons she never stopped eating that was turning her stomach.”
    “She is a sad trial to be sure, but never mind.”
    “I say, Sid, this is something like!” he exclaimed, looking out at the marbled hallway and around the Blue Saloon. “I was afraid the cottage you kept