The Bachelor Trap Read Free

toes,” she said crossly. “There’s no need to fuss.”
    Then she fainted.

    Marion swam out of the haze that enveloped her. “Someone elbowed me in the back,” she said plaintively.
    A masculine voice asked, “Who would want to harm you, Marion?”
    â€œDavid.”
    Just saying the word cleared her head. She lifted her lashes and blinked to clear the mist in front of her eyes. Emily’s anxious face looked down at her. Then she registered Hamilton’s presence and, finally, the painful throb in her toes.
    She struggled to a sitting position. They were in Hamilton’s carriage turning into the street that gave onto Hanover Square, where Cousin Fanny’s house was located.
    â€œYou’re taking me home?”
    Hamilton nodded. “Apart from anything else, you gave yourself a nasty knock on the head. When we get to the house, I’ll send for the doctor. I’ve already sent word to your cousins at the Clarendon.”
    â€œThat isn’t necessary! It will only worry Fanny and Reggie if I don’t turn up. As I told you, all I did was stub my toes.”
    â€œYou said David pushed you.”
    She felt a stab of alarm. “I said no such thing.” Then, with an agility of mind that surprised even her, she added, “Who is David?”
    When Hamilton looked at Emily, she shook her head. The subject of David was dropped, much to Marion’s relief, but Hamilton hadn’t finished yet. “Did you get a good look at the person who pushed you?”
    â€œNo. Everything happened so quickly. And I wasn’t pushed, I was elbowed.” Her toes were throbbing in earnest, so she managed no more than a weak smile. “That’s the thing about London. It’s a menace. People are always in a hurry. I’m forever dodging crowds of jostling shoppers, or carriages hurtling to unknown destinations as though it were a matter of life and death. The theater is no different. And do you know, old people are the worst? Lord Denison’s grandmother uses her cane as though she is prodding cattle.”
    Her attempt at humor won a chuckle from Emily, though Mr. Hamilton remained stony-faced.
    â€œYou’re right about that,” said Emily. “I’ve seen her do it. But you’re wrong about your fall. I’m not saying you were deliberately pushed, but someone fell heavily against you. Marion, our arms were linked and you were wrenched from my grasp. Luckily for you, there was a big man in front of you. He broke your fall.”
    â€œI can’t remember.” And that was the truth. At this point, all she wanted was to get home so that Fanny’s housekeeper could give her one of her magic powders to dull the pain in her toes. “I can’t understand,” she said, “how stubbed toes can hurt so much.”
    â€œBe thankful you didn’t break your neck.” That was Hamilton.
    â€œLike poor Aunt Edwina.” That was Emily. Suddenly aware of what she’d said, she went on hurriedly, “I’m sorry. It was a thoughtless thing to say at a time like this.”
    A pall of silence settled over them. Marion had to struggle to keep from showing how Emily’s words had affected her. Guilt was a constant shadow on her mind. She’d hardly known this aunt who had left everything to her—Yew Cottage in Longbury, her goods and chattels, and the little money she had saved. All she had ever done for her aunt was write the occasional letter. It was the same with her mother, though she and Edwina were sisters. There had been a falling-out when Edwina and the youngest sister, Hannah, had come for a holiday to the Lake District, and the quarrel had never been mended, not properly. It was only glossed over.
    Without Aunt Edwina’s legacy, they would be in dire straits. When their father died, the title and estate passed to Cousin Morley, and she and her sisters had moved into the dower house. It wasn’t