The Bachelor List Read Free Page A

subtle, he'd almost missed it himself. Just a hint in the voice, a gleam in the eye.
    They were a good-looking trio. Redheads, all three of them, but with subtle variations in the shade that moved from the russet of autumn leaves to cinnamon, and in the case of the one he guessed was the youngest, a most decisive red. All green-eyed too, but again of different shades. He thought the eldest one, Constance, with her russet hair and darkest green eyes was the most striking of the three, but perhaps that was because she was the tallest. Either way, there was something about all three of them that piqued his interest.
    “Are they Lord Duncan's daughters?” he inquired.
    “Yes, their mother died about three years ago.” Elizabeth gave a sympathetic sigh. “So hard for them, poor girls. You'd think they'd all be married by now. Constance must be all of twenty-eight, and I know she's had more than one offer.”
    Tiny frown lines appeared between her well-plucked brows. “In fact, I seem to remember a young man a few years ago . . . some dreadful tragedy. I believe he was killed in the war . . . at Mafeking or one of those unpronounceable places.” She shook her head, briskly dismissing the entire African continent and all its confusions.
    “As for Chastity,” she continued, happy to return to more solid ground. “Well, she must be twenty-six, and she has more suitors than one can count.”
    Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice at a conspiratorial volume. “But they took their mother's death very hard, poor girls.” She tutted sorrowfully. “It was very sudden. All over in a matter of weeks. Cancer,” she added. “She just faded away.” She shook her head again and took a cream-laden bite of hazelnut gâteau.
    Max Ensor sipped his tea. “I'm slightly acquainted with the baron. He takes his seat most days in the House of Lords.”
    “Oh, Lord Duncan's most conscientious, I'm sure. Charming man, quite charming. But I can't help feeling he's not doing a father's duty.” Elizabeth dabbed delicately at her rouged mouth with her napkin. “He should insist they marry—well, Constance and Chastity certainly. He can't have three old maids in the family. Prudence is a little different. I'm sure she would be content to stay and look after her father. Such a sensible girl . . . such a pity about the spectacles. They do make a woman look so dull.”
    Dull
was not a word Max Ensor, on first acquaintance, would have applied to any one of the three Duncan sisters. And behind her thick lenses he seemed to recall that Miss Prudence had a pair of extremely light and lively green eyes.
    He gave a noncommittal nod and asked, “May I see that broadsheet, ma'am?”
    “It's quite scandalous.” Elizabeth opened her bag again. She lowered her voice. “Of course, everyone's reading it, but no one admits it. I'm sure even Letitia reads it sometimes.” She pushed the folded sheets across the table surreptitiously beneath her flattened palm.
    Max Ensor doubted that his sister, Letitia, read anything other than the handwritten menu sheets presented to her each morning by her cook, but he kept the observation to himself and unfolded the papers.
    The broadsheet was competently printed although he doubted it had been through a major press. The paper was cheap and flimsy and the layout without artistry. He glanced at the table of contents listed at the left-hand side of the top page. His eyebrows lifted. There were two political articles listed, one on the new public house licensing laws and the other on the new twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit for motorcars. Hardly topics to appeal to Mayfair ladies of the Elizabeth Armitage or Letitia Graham ilk, and yet judging by its bold title, the broadsheet was addressing just such a readership.
    His eye was caught by a boxed headline in black type, bolder than any other on the front page. It was a headline in the form of a statement and a question and stood alone in its box, jumping out at the reader with