The House in Grosvenor Square Read Free Page A

girl hadtaken an instant partiality to him and insisted on his company as often as possible.) He could not rid himself of his still-strong admiration for her elder sister. Couple that with a touch of pique—he’d had such hopes of her—and he was moved to join her company whenever possible. Miss Forsythe had been too friendly for him to think she felt nothing more than mere friend-ship for him!
    But it wasn’t becoming in a man of faith to nurse a grudge. His calling was in the church, which even if he had not been a third son, he would have chosen because he had strong religious leanings. But he could not resist the chance to be in her company. So he tried to avoid looking at her, having no wish to make a jackanape of himself, but it was difficult indeed, with such proximity to her beauty.
    Furthermore, it was decidedly unusual for him to be welcomed into the presence of the Paragon, a man he felt more than a little antipathy toward. To be seated beside him now seemed extraordinary, and he was mute with a mixture of caution, jealousy, and surprise. He had always scoffed at the man’s reputation for excellent taste, but in his presence, he could not deny a feeling of reluctant admiration. Mr. Mornay’s clothing made a stark contrast to his own less costly attire. The man’s dark double-breasted tailcoat with tapered sleeves made his frock coat, though sturdy, appear plain, indeed.
    At that moment Beatrice unhelpfully exclaimed, “Your coach is ever so pretty, Mr. Mornay! It is far more comfortable than my father’s.” She fingered the dark burgundy velvet of her seat. “I wish my mother and father could see it.”
    â€œHush!” Ariana said, not without affection.
    â€œDo you not fancy the coach? I could ride in it for days!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed.
    â€œOf course I fancy it, but it doesn’t signify.”
    â€œIs your carriage as agreeable as this one, Mr. O’Brien?” the girl asked.
    Her question made him shudder inwardly, as he thought of the single family equipage he used when taking his mama and sisters about town. Compared to Mornay’s gleaming, springed, and upholstered vehicle, his was unmistakably shabby. “No,” he answered, trying to smile with the word.
    Just then everyone’s attention was diverted as they pulled up outside a large Palladian-style building that was fenced in by black iron gates. The London Orphan Society was a stately institution. Mr. Pellham exclaimed, “Undoubtedly the work of Mr. Nash, wouldn’t you say, Mornay?”
    Mr. Mornay, observing the building as best he could from the interiorof the coach, nodded his head. “Very likely.” All was quiet and neat on the outside. A gateman opened the way for them, and the coach moved forward and into a circular drive, which brought them round to the front entrance.

    As the group stepped into the building, Mrs. Bentley raised her ankle-length pelisse as though it might drag on the tiled floor. Ariana straightened her dark blue, French-style canezou, which had a deep flounce along the shoulders, neckline, and empire waist. Beneath her bonnet, which sported two round puffs of pale, gathered fabric at the top, a few little ringlets of blonde hair framed her face—evidence of enduring a night with curling papers beneath her cap. She was bright with youthful beauty this morning, as most days. Ariana happily accepted Mr. Mornay’s arm and continued to search his countenance for a clue to his feelings, but he maintained a stony disregard of her. If not for his past effusive reassurances of love, she might have been exceedingly disconcerted. She refused to believe anything of import was behind his distant manner, as she tucked one arm through his and placed her other hand upon his coat sleeve with feeling.
    The little group followed the headmistress, Mrs. Gullweather, who had, curtseying, given her name; and two female servants down a long, wide