The Hermit's Daughter Read Free Page A

Monstuart is his uncle. He will be forty or fifty,”
    “And a rake into the bargain. A hardheaded man who considers marriage a business transaction, and love a game to be played on the side.”
    “I don’t know where you get such ideas, Sally. I’m sure you are sophisticated beyond your years. It is exactly the sort of speech that put all the men off at Bath.”
    “I had that much sophistication before ever I left London. I do have eyes in my head, you know, and saw very well what was going on among your friends.”
    Mrs. Hermitage’s fine eyes flashed blue fire. “If you are referring to Samantha Barnow, I will have you know she and your papa were just friends.”
    “Yes, Mama, as Lord Monstuart and Lady Dennison are just friends. I am not seven years old; you don’t have to hide from me that Papa was a shocking flirt. Well, you had a few beaux calling in the afternoon yourself when Papa was at work. I seem to remember a Sir Darrow somebody or other dropping in with suspicious regularity, but never mind. I am neither judge nor jury. Perhaps there is some sense in what you say. Monstuart will be calling eventually, I trust, and till he leaves we shan’t bother trying to cut back. But as soon as he’s gone, whether the match with Derwent comes offor not, we must curtail our spending and hang on to what we can of that paltry fifteen thousand pounds.”
    “Certainly we must, my dear. And I have just had a delightful notion. If Monstuart is fifty or so, as we think, I might make a few eyes at him and see if my fading charms have still sufficient strength to woo him.”
    “As they woo Mr. Heppleworth, eh, Mama?”Sally smiled.
    Mrs. Hermitage was forty, and a very stylish, well-preserved forty that might pass for a few years less. What white hair she had was well concealed by her blond curls. Time’s ravages to her complexion were hidden by a judicious use of the rouge pot. It was often discussed en famille that Mr. Heppleworth was infatuated with her. Mama had an inkling it was Sally he came to see, using herself as an excuse. A balding gentleman of forty-five would not like to make a complete cake of himself in front of his friends.
    Sally fell silent, considering if her mother might be induced to have Heppleworth. He was a country gentleman, but a well-greased one, and would solve their money problems very tidily. She was a clever girl, but from considering Mr. Heppleworth an old man, she had never thought of his friendliness to her in any light other than avuncular. Many of her father’s old friends had flirted with her in the same gallant fashion.
    “We shall see,”Mrs. Hermitage said. “If Monstuart doesn’t care for me, you can roll your eyes at him, Sal.”
    Miss Hermitage had already decided Monstuart was a rake and a libertine. She had no intention of encouraging his advances. “I’m not that eager for Mellie’s marriage.”
    “How about your own? You cannot be happy to see little Mellie beating you to the altar. And Monstuart is very wealthy, Derwent says.”
    Sally considered the matter a moment. “Well, as you say, if he proves biddable ...”
     

Chapter Two
     
    The Hermitages were not long in doubt as to what sort of a gentleman Lord Monstuart was. He landed in on them the next morning at an inconvenient ten-thirty, when they were not accustomed to receiving Derwent till eleven. When Monstuart arrived with his nephew, it was only Miss Hermitage who was up and ready to receive a caller. Mama was adding the coup de grace to Mellie’s blond crown in the shape of a blue bow, to match her eyes. It chanced that Sally was just sweeping down the curved staircase as the butler admitted the callers.
    She surmised on the instant who the tall, severe-faced gentleman with Derwent must be, and was happy she had put on a fashionable gown of green sarcenet that set off her dark hair and ivory complexion to great advantage, for Lord Monstuart was obviously from the tip of the ton. He wore his dark hair in