Amanda Scott Read Free Page B

bring it down with me, and see he don’t muddy his little paws as he did yesterday. Mama likes her little man to have tidy paws,” she added in an entirely different tone as she reached to pat the spaniel, fawning at her ankles.
    Carolyn, glancing at Miss Pucklington, said, “It is very cold out today, Godmama. Perhaps, just this once, one of the footmen could take Hercules out.”
    “Hercules does not like footmen,” Lady Skipton said. “He bites them. And if Judith had not been stifling herself here in this hot room, she would take no notice of a slight chill. I thought,” she added, turning a basilisk glare upon Miss Pucklington, “that I gave strict orders there were to be no fires lit before supper. ’Tis an unconscionable waste of Sydney’s money, and though it was wrong in my brother Henry to have left it all to him as he did, I will not tolerate waste.”
    Before Miss Pucklington could gather her wits to reply, Carolyn said, “I ordered the fire, ma’am, for I chanced to remember that Sydney would dislike it if the damp air were to harm his books or prints.”
    “I am aware of that,” the dowager retorted, looking down her nose and adding with the air of one determined to have the last word, “but the fire needn’t have been such a large one.”
    Miss Pucklington said in a hearty tone, “Come along, Hercules, lad,” whereupon the spaniel trotted obediently after her, leaving a distinct odor behind to inform Carolyn as plainly as words would have done that the dowager had been indulging her pet in too many of her own favorite bonbons again.
    Lady Skipton, sniffing, looked accusingly at Carolyn, who flushed to the roots of her hair. But although she opened her mouth to deny responsibility, she shut it again when she could think of nothing even remotely acceptable to say.
    “Stop gaping,” commanded the dowager. “You look like a hooked fish, which is not at all becoming to any young woman. If you’ve got something to say, say it!”
    Pressed, Carolyn blurted, “Shall I send for one of the footmen to bank the fire, ma’am?”
    “That will not be necessary,” the dowager said, stretching her feet nearer to its warmth. “I shall sit here with you until they announce that supper has been served. ’Tis likely Sydney will honor us with his presence tonight, and I make no doubt that if he does, he will applaud the little economies I have instigated in his absence.”
    Since that topic was no more promising than the previous one, Carolyn said, “He has been away a sennight this time, ma’am. Why do you believe he will return tonight?” As she spoke, she tried to slip her book behind her without drawing notice to it.
    The dowager seemed not to notice as she said, “I am told that the Black Dog Trust held a meeting this afternoon at Westbury, and you know my son takes his duties as a turnpike trustee most seriously. I have told Mrs. Shields to set supper back an hour to accommodate him.”
    Carolyn sat up straighter. “But if you set supper back, ma’am, we shall be late leaving for the Gardens!”
    “And what, pray, makes you think we are going out? I am certain I had no such intention.”
    “But you did! That is, you said we might attend the next assembly there, which is tonight. What is more, it is nearly the last one until spring. Oh, you must remember, surely!”
    “I remember no such thing. And why are you wriggling so? Proper young ladies sit up straight with their feet placed firmly upon the floor and their hands resting neatly in their laps. Do so at once, and—Good gracious, what is that?” she demanded as the book, freed by Carolyn’s automatic obedience to the familiar command, fell between the sofa’s back and seat and crashed to the floor. “Bring that to me at once. I cannot imagine what sort of book it must be that you attempt to conceal from me.”
    Feeling suddenly more like a child of ten than a young woman rapidly approaching the twenty-first anniversary of her birth,