Lovers' Vows Read Free

it?” She spooned a gob onto her place as she spoke, and stuck the serving spoon into her mouth to confirm her guess. At least she did not return it to the communal jam pot.
    She single-handedly consumed two-thirds of the scones and drank three cups of tea before bending over, with a mild oath, to ease her aching feet into her boots for departure. “Write up that Folkstone pudding receipt for me, Holly, and have a servant bring it to me. Nice visit, Elsa. I’ll come back soon,” she said as she went toward the door. As an afterthought she added, “And I’ll have Dewar bring his company to call if there’s a likely-looking match in the young men for Janie. Where is she?”
    “She is having her piano lesson in the village with Miss Carroll,” the mother answered. “I’ll tell her you were asking for her.”
    “Hah, much she’ll care, the minx. Tell her to curl her hair and I’ll find her a beau to save you dragging her off to London. Good day to you. Good day, Holly,” she shouted as she went out the door, lumbering at an awkward gait, as the damp autumn weather invaded her corns.
    “There, you see, it is just as I said,” Lady Proctor told her niece, as soon as they were alone. “She means to foster a match between Dewar and Jane.” Holly looked at her blankly, wondering how desire could so warp one’s reading of reality. “She mentioned we would be looking higher than formerly. And telling us Dewar’s baby name—that is the sort of family familiarity she has never mentioned before.”
    “She said one of Dewar’s guests might be suitable.”
    “Guests? It is Dewar himself she has in mind. Not a doubt of it. Why else would she ask to be remembered to Jane, and caution her to get her hair done? Dewar fancies elegant women, you must know. I begin to understand her scheme now. She has not spoken of it to Dewar. She means to send him down to call, and let him see for himself how pretty Jane is become. That is clever of her, to be sure. Very clever. I shall do the same with Jane, and not say a word about it, except to tell her to get her hair done, of course. And she had better have a new gown. Is that skirt hemmed yet, my dear?”
    “I was just about to finish it,” Holly said, reaching down for the garment.
    "It is all those orphan shirts that holds us up so. How we shall ever find time to get a new gown made up as well I don’t know. You had better take Jane into the village this afternoon, and speak to the modiste. Oh, and you will have to stop at the drapers and select some material. Much too cold for muslin. Get her a good quality of silk—some of that new georgette they have got in. The rose or blue, whichever Jane wants. In fact, get both. With Dewar in residence, there are bound to be plenty of balls and parties. We shall have one ourselves. A rout do you think, Holly, or a real ball? Make up a list of guests, will you? You know where the old list is. My, so busy as I shall be. I think I’ll have a lie-down to prepare myself for it all.”
    She dragged herself from her chair, trailing the lace wisp after her. She was fatigued with the weight of all these pending exertions. So fortunate she had dear Holly to help her a little.
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Chapter 2
     
    Lord Dewar sat at an ornate japanned desk in his bedchamber on Grosvenor Square with a cup of black coffee at his elbow, and the Morning Chronicle open before him. It was his custom to begin at page one of this journal and quickly read it through each morning before he dressed. Today, he stopped at page seven, his eyes scanning the social columns.
    One would be forgiven for thinking him ill-pleased with the world. There was an expression of weary disdain on his chiselled countenance. His black brows, as finely etched and groomed as any lady’s, rose a fraction as his grey orbs settled on an item in the column. Without looking up, he reached out his hand for a pencil, and drew a circle around the item, then lounged back in his padded chair and