Heirs of Acadia - 02 - The Innocent Libertine Read Free Page A

earned the hard knocks and know what’s what.”
    “Very well.”
    “Just you wait, lass, I’m not done. You’re claiming to want to help in the manner of Wilberforce’s teachings. Well, then. I want you to become involved in a group we’re setting up to minister to orphans. There’s crowds of them roaming east of Oxford Street. We’re looking for volunteers. Which you just did.”
    “Of course I’ll help.” A thought flashed so brilliantly it shone from her face. “But I’ll need to change into a less formal gown at the church.”
    To her surprise, Derrick laughed aloud. “Are you that eager to leave behind what most of this lot would give their right arms to possess?”
    “I am. So terribly much.”
    “Very well. But I’ll be writing a letter to your father, all very formal, just letting him know where his daughter is occupied.”
    He won’t like it, Abigail wanted to say. But she refrained. Because she could see Derrick was ready for argument, and she did not wish to quarrel. In truth, with Nora gone she needed new friends. She felt a stab of renewed sorrow over how her dearest ally had left her. “Thank you, Reverend Aimes.”
    He smiled at her. “Ah, lass. When you look at a man like that, you could melt stone.”
    “What—what do you mean?”
    Without answering he turned to his grinning companions. “All right, brethren. It’s back to the harvest we go.”

Chapter 2
    The dowager countess Lillian Houghton sat in the alcove serving as her dressing room and gave her face a critical examination. It never ceased to astonish her how all that she had endured remained hidden from view. At age thirty-three she was the mother of a fifteen-year-old boy, now happily settled in as a boarder at Eton. She was the widow of Grantlyn Houghton, fifth lord of Wantage and former equerry to His Royal Highness, now King George IV. She was heir not to the count’s fortune, as most assumed, but rather to his enormous debts. Further, she was chased by the most dire scandal she could have imagined and was being blackmailed by a vile creature. She risked losing everything, including her reputation. She lived night and day with terrors so vast she could scarcely name them.
    Yet even the most careful study of the face in the mirror revealed no hint of her woes. She remained untouched by time’s hand or the ravages of ill fortune.
    The upstairs maid knocked upon her open door. “Excuse me, mum, but you wanted to know the moment the gentleman arrived. I just spied his carriage pulling up in front.”
    “Thank you, Tilly. Please show him into the front parlor.”
    “Shall I be serving him anything? Tea, perhaps?”
    “Most certainly not.”
    “Excuse me, mum, but what if he asks?”
    “You will pretend to have heard nothing, you will take his coat, you will shut the door, and you will not reenter the room except upon my command. He is to receive nothing in this house, do you hear me? Nothing.” Her tone said even more than her words. The maid curtsied and fled.
    Lillian took a step back from the mirror and critically reviewed her entire form. She wore a dress of pale blue that perfectly matched her eyes. Some said her eyes were her finest feature, being large and round and clear as a young maiden’s. They were framed by an unlined face, separated by a faultless nose, and bordered by a shining mass of dark curls. Her figure was as fine as her features, her hands as dainty as her feet, her lips a perfect cupid’s bow. At her last visit to Court, one of the prince’s consorts had bowed low over her hand and described her as the finest example of English beauty alive today.
    She left the safety of her boudoir and descended the regal central staircase. Her London home was in one of the half-hidden cul-de-sacs off Pall Mall, as agreeable an address as any. Her husband’s fortune had brought them many a fine bauble, until the appalling news had arrived that his investments in Portugal had been lost. All lost. Every penny