The Ideal Wife Read Free Page B

of a gentleman’s establishment with nary a chaperone on the premises.
    “Miss Gardiner,” the secretary said, looking at her with a disdain he did nothing to disguise. “What may I do for you, ma’am?”

2
    M ISS ABIGAIL GARDINER LOOKED AT the earl steadily, though he guessed that it took a great effort of courage to do so.
    “I wished to speak with my cousin, Lord Severn, sir,” she said quietly.
    She was definitely a mouse, he decided. A little brown mouse, though she was not particularly small—or particularly tall, for that matter. She was really quite nondescript, a woman it would be hard to describe one hour after she had left his sight. A woman who would fade admirably into any background.
    “I am Severn, ma’am,” he said, still toying with the handle of his quizzing glass, though he did not raise it to his eye again. This woman did not need to be put in her place. There was none of the boldness of manner in her that he occasionally had to contend with in other indigent relatives. “Whether I am your cousin or not, I do not have the pleasure of knowing.”
    Color rose in her cheeks, though she did not remove her eyes from his. They were fine gray eyes, he noticed—definitely her best feature.
    “Doubtless,” he said, “you did not hear of the demise of the former earl fifteen months ago. Perhaps your branch of the family was not considered close enough that anyone thought of informing you.”
    He felt immediately sorry for his sarcasm. It had been quite unnecessary. The woman’s lips tightened for a moment, but she said nothing.
    “My father was a great-grandson of the former earl’s grandfather,” she said, “his father being the third son of a fourth daughter.”
    “The former earl was my father’s second cousin,” he said. “And so I suppose that makes you my . . . cousin too, Miss Gardiner. What may I do for you?”
    “I need your help, my lord,” she said, “in a small way and for this occasion only.”
    He let his quizzing glass swing free from its black ribbon and clasped both hands behind his back. His eyes moved over her. She was not servile. He liked that. She held her chin up and she was able to look him in the eyes even as she begged. But she was quiet and respectful. He liked that too.
    He had a sudden and unwelcome image of Frances and the inevitability of their union once she arrived in London—unless something should happen between now and that moment to make a union impossible.
    But it was a ridiculous idea, one that he had expressed the night before from the depths of his gloom but had not meant seriously, nonetheless. It was a stupid notion.
    “How much?” he asked with a heavier sarcasm than he had intended.
    She stared at him in incomprehension. “How much help?” she said.
    “How much money, ma’am?” The earl walked a few steps farther into the room. It was time to do business and get rid of the woman before he did something unbelievably foolish, something he would regret for the rest of his life.
    “Money?” she said, frowning slightly. “I have not come here to beg for money, my lord. It is for your help I have come to ask.”
    “Is it?” he said. He was disappointed. It would have been easier if it had been money she wanted.
    “I have lost my position as lady’s companion,” she said, “and have no prospect of acquiring another. I wish you will provide me with some recommendation as your relative, my lord.”
    Lord Severn considered directing the woman to take a seat. Had she been standing ever since she entered the room? But he did not wish to prolong the interview. She was too uncannily like the ideal wife he had described to Gerald the night before.
    “Is not your former employer better qualified to do that?” he asked. “I do not know you, after all, ma’am, even if there is some remote connection of blood between us.”
    The woman’s chin lifted for a moment before she tucked it in once more. Her hands fidgeted with each other. She was