Carola Dunn Read Free Page A

of Love.”
     

Chapter 2
     
    Lissa dropped the remains of her tart. “W-what do you mean?” she faltered through suddenly dry lips.
    Lord Ashe raised dark, sardonic eyebrows, tightening his clasp as she attempted to pull her hand free. “Exactly what I said, my dove. I spoke English, not French, did I not? I wish to try whether we shall suit before I offer you my protection. I have already dismissed your predecessor. It is a common enough situation.”
    “For you, perhaps!” Indignation warred with embarrassment. “Just because I am an actress, it does not mean I am a l-lightskirt.”
    “No? Why the devil do you imagine I invited you this evening? Don’t plead ignorance, pray!” he added dryly.
    Abashed, Lissa stared at the crumbs on her plate. “I confess, I did not suppose you wished to congratulate me on my performance.”
    “So why did you accept?”
    “I was hungry,” she muttered, her face aflame. Then her spirit revived as she reminded herself how much practice she had had at standing up to browbeating. She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “And I hoped to be able to take some scraps home for the children.”
    “Children!” Lord Ashe pounced on the word, his grip now painful. “I knew you could be neither so young as you look nor so innocent as you claim.”
    Biting her lip, Lissa managed not to wince. Show fear and they had you where they wanted you. “I told you I am nineteen,” she said quietly. “The children are my brothers.”
    At last he let go her hand. “Brothers?” His penetrating stare held her gaze for an endless moment. She was glad she was telling the truth.
    He reached for his glass, drank, then lounged back in his chair. “You are supporting your brothers?” he asked, his tone conversational now.
    “I do my best.” Against her will, her lips trembled. She felt for her handkerchief and twisted it nervously between her fingers to stop her hands shaking.
    “A poor best, I take it,” he said gently, “if you are reduced to deceit to feed them. Well, I’ll not make matters worse. Come, put on your bonnet whilst I ring to arrange for our leavings to be packed up.”
    Her heart too full for words, her eyes misty, Lissa could only look her gratitude. She hastened to obey, glad to hide her face within the depths of the drab bonnet.
    The waiter received with astonished resentment Lord Ashe’s order to bestow the broken meats in a basket to be removed from the premises. The sullen glance he cast at Lissa, who was no doubt robbing him of his perquisites, quickly changed to a pitying sneer. Obviously his lordship, disillusioned by the dowd’s lack of hidden assets, was casting her off kindly.
    The real wonder, Lissa thought wistfully, was that a gentleman of Lord Ashe’s manifest superiority had for a brief while desired so plain and dowdy a female. Now the false glamour of her stage appearance had worn off, he must be glad of an excuse to retreat.
    Though not accustomed to catering for outside parties, the Piazza found crocks and cans enough to accommodate every morsel. Lord Ashe brushed aside apologetic explanations of the necessity of charging for the loan of the containers. A potboy lugged the heavy basket out to the lamplit street where his lordship’s hastily summoned town carriage awaited.
    Lissa’s plan had worked. She had eaten well and had enough left to feed the boys for two or three days. So she could only attribute her low spirits to the prospect of the long trudge home carrying the spoils.
    Curtsying, she breathed a heartfelt “Thank you, my lord,” and reached for the basket.
    He forestalled her, slipping a coin to the lad, who dashed back to his work. Hefting the basket, Lord Ashe enquired, “Where do you live, Miss Findlay?”
    “On the other side of the river, sir, in Lambeth, near the Coburg Theatre.”
    “Back to Lambeth, Burr,” he called to his coachman.
    “There is no need to take me so far out of your way, sir.” Lissa was not at all sure