One Bite Per Night Read Free Page A

name was Morley.”
    Miss Hobson bowed her head, but not before Lydia caught a glimmer of pity in the woman’s eyes. “Let us have you settled into the carriage, and I will explain what has transpired.”
    Oh God, my grandmother has died. A lump formed in her throat. Am I cursed? Is all my family dead?
    Oblivious to her grief, the footman gathered her trunks and loaded them onto the carriage. The maid adjusted her starched cap and approached her with a tremulous smile on her mousy face.
    â€œMy name is Emma, Miss Price. The earl has hired me to be your maid.” Her lilting accent was so different than the chaperone’s clipped cadence.
    Lydia smiled. “I am pleased to meet you, Emma.”
    Emma curtsied. “What beautiful hair you have, miss. It’s like spun onyx. I will be pleased to dress it.”
    Miss Hobson silenced her with a stern glare. “It is time we were off.”
    Once settled in the carriage, the chaperone cleared her throat. “I do not know how to say this easily, Miss Price, so I apologize for my forthright manner. Due to the scandal your father caused with his marriage to your mother, Lady Morley refuses to have you in her home, so the Earl of Deveril will be acting as your guardian. There was an old alliance between the families.”
    Lydia discovered that it was indeed possible to feel worse. Her grandmother didn’t want her. She’d heard that English folk were snobbish, but she hadn’t expected this. Her heart felt as if it were cleaved in two. Now I understand why Papa never returned home.
    Lifting her chin and blinking back tears, Lydia faced her chaperone. “Well, I daresay, she does not sound like a person I would like to know.” Forcing a smile, she spoke past the lump in her throat. “Please, tell me about the Earl of Deveril. Was he a friend of my father?” Please tell me he is kind. He’d have to be, to take in a complete stranger.
    Miss Hobson’s eyes widened a moment at Lydia’s cheery tone. “I know little about the earl as I have only recently come under his employ. It is doubtful he knew your father. His lordship resides at Castle Deveril in Cornwall and is known to be a recluse.”
    â€œA castle ?” A measure of her dismay fled at the prospect. It would be just like a gothic novel. What sorts of secrets resided within its stone walls? Were there hidden passageways? Ghosts?
    Before her imagination could take flight, Miss Hobson began questioning Lydia on her accomplishments. The woman did not smile. The only indication of approval Lydia received was a placid nod at the mention of her painting.
    Displeasure, on the other hand, seemed to be the chaperone’s forte. Her brows rose to her hairline in outrage when Lydia spoke of shooting with her father.
    â€œIn England, an unmarried lady does not handle firearms,” the chaperone said sternly.
    Lydia sighed. “I suppose that means fishing is out of the question as well.”
    Miss Hobson’s lips twitched slightly before she sniffed. “Quite.”
    As the carriage rolled down the rutted road, Lydia gazed out the window in rapt fascination at the Cornish landscape. Stone houses perched among the rolling green hills on one side and cliffs fell away to the sea on the other. Ruins of castles dotted the horizon like aging sentinels. Something within her awakened at the sight. There was something magical about this land and its wild beauty. She stared for hours, absorbing the colors and textures, her fingers itching to capture it all on canvas.
    Night had fallen by the time they reached the castle. The carriage rattled and shook violently as it rolled down the rutted, rocky path. Lydia clung to the leather straps, terrified that the conveyance would topple over. When the wheels ground to a shuddering stop, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Thunder sounded in the distance as the footmen helped the ladies from the