Season's Regency Greetings Read Free Page A

Janet, perhaps you can tell us where your parents are? Your sister is concerned.”
    Janet looked at her, a tragic expression on her lovely face. “Oh, Miss … Miss Ambrose, is it? My parents have bravely gone into a charnel house of pestilence and disease.”
    Lord Trevor glowered at his older niece. “Cut line, Janet,” he said. He put his arm around Lucy. “Amelia’s brood came down with the measles three days ago, and your parents have gone to York to help. I expect them home tomorrow. Amelia is the oldest of my nieces,” he explained to Cecilia over his shoulder. “It’s just the dratted measles.”
    â€œ Only this afternoon I wrote to my dear Lysander, who will drop everything to hurry to this beleaguered household and give us the benefit of his wisdom,” Janet said.
    â€œ Janet, we can depend upon Uncle Trevor to look out for us,” Lucy said shyly.
    â€œ Uncle Trevor is far too busy to worry about us, Lucy,” her sister replied, dismissing her sister with a wave of her handkerchief. “And didn’t he say over breakfast this morning that he must return to London immediately after our parents are restored to us? Depend upon it; Lysander will hurry to my side, and all will be well.” She nodded to Cecilia. “Come, Lucinda. I have much to tell you about my dear Lysander.”
    â€œ But shouldn’t I show Miss Ambrose to her room?” Lucy asked.
    â€œ That is what servants are for, Lucy. Come along.”
    After a backward glance at Cecilia, Lucinda trailed upstairs after her sister. Cecilia’s face burned with the snub. Lord Trevor regarded her with sympathy.
    â€œ What do you say, Miss Ambrose? Should we wait until Lysander arrives, tie him up with Janet, and throw them both in the river? It’s too late to drown them at birth. Ah, that is better,” he said when she laughed. “Do excuse my niece’s manners. If I ever fall in love—and the prospect seems remote—I promise not to be so rude.” He indicated the sitting room, with its open door and fire crackling in the grate. “Come sit down, and let me take a moment to reassure you that we are not all denatured, drooling simpletons.”
    She needed no proof of that, but was happy to accompany him into the sitting room. He saw that she was seated close to the fire, a hassock under her feet, and then spoke to the footman.
    â€œ Tea or coffee, Miss Ambrose?” he asked. “I know coffee isn’t ordinarily served in the afternoon, but I am partial to it, and don’t have a second’s patience with what I should and should not do.”
    â€œ Coffee, if you please,” she answered, amused out of her embarrassment. She removed her gloves, and fluffed her hair, trapped too long by her bonnet.
    The footman left, and Lord Trevor stood by the fireplace. She regarded him with some interest, because she remembered now who he was. Miss Dupree, considered a radical by some, subscribed to two London newspapers, even going so far as to encourage her employees to read them. The other female teachers seldom ventured beyond the first page. The Select Academy’s two male instructors read the papers during the day while they drank tea between classes. When class was over, and if the downstairs maid hadn’t made her circuit, Cecilia gathered up the papers from the commons room. She took them to her room to pore over in the evening hours, after she had finished grading papers, and when it was not her turn to be on duty in the sitting room when the young ladies were allowed visitors.
    She knew next to nothing of the British criminal trial system, but could not resist reading about the cases that even Mrs. Dupree, for all her radical views, must have considered sordid and sensational. No matter; Cecilia read the papers, and here was a barrister well known to her from criminal trials, written up in the florid style of the London dailies.
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