The Temporary Wife Read Free Page A

careful, Charity," he said.
    "I shall be," she promised. "And demure. I shall be a veritable mouse. A quiet, drab, brown little mouse. I shall be so self-effacing that he will not even realize I am in the room with him. I shall be…"
    But her brother was laughing out loud. She went around the table to stand behind his chair and wrap both arms about his shoulders. "Oh, you do that all too rarely these days, Phil," she said. "All will work out, you will see. We will be rich somehow and you will marry Agnes and live happily ever after."
    "And you?" He raised a hand to pat her arm.
    "And I shall live happily ever after too," she said. "Penny will be able to marry and I shall stay with the children until they are all grown and happily wed, and then I shall settle into a contented and eccentric spinsterhood."
    He chuckled again as she lightly kissed the top of his head.
    But for all that she was nervous, the next morning when she arrived at the house on Upper Grosvenor Street to which she had been summoned for an interview. The hall was unostentatious but elegant. So was the servant who answered her knock on the door. So was the empty salon into which she was shown. She instinctively sought out the part of the room that was out of the light from the windows. She tried to master the beating of her heart. If she did not secure this position, she would begin to lose confidence in herself. She had already half promised Phil that she would go home without trying further. She would… But her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door.
    He was young—no more than thirty at the outside. He was also handsome in a harsh sort of way, she thought to herself. He was of somewhat above-medium height, with a slender, well-proportioned figure, very dark hair and eyes, and a thin, angular, aristocratic face. The sunlight shining through the windows was full on him as he came through the door. In its harsh glare the cold cynicism of his expression made him look somehow satanic. He was expensively and elegantly dressed. Indeed, he looked very much as if he might have been poured into his well-tailored coat and pantaloons—a sure sign that he was a gentleman of high fashion.
    He did not look like a kind man. He looked like the sort of man who would devour chambermaids more than he would seduce them. But she must not judge the man before he had uttered even a single word. She felt demeaned again, alone in a gentleman's house without servant or chaperon, because she herself was now a servant—an unemployed one. Her eyes dipped to focus on the carpet before his own found her in the shadows. She concentrated hard on cultivating the manner of a typical governess.
    "Miss Duncan?" he said. His voice was as haughty and as bored as she had expected it to be, though it was a pleasant tenor voice. There was no pretense of charm in it. But why should there be? He was conducting an interview for a governess for his children.
    "Yes, sir," she said, trying to look dignified but not over-proud. She kept her back straight. She was, after all, a lady.
    "Please be seated." He indicated a chair that was close by and out of the glare of the sunlight, for which fact she was grateful. Interviews did not get easier with experience.
    "Yes, sir," she said, seating herself, keeping her eyes lowered. She would answer the questions concisely and honestly. She would hope there would be no awkward questions.
    Mr. Earheart seated himself on a chair opposite hers. He crossed one booted leg over the other. His hessian boots were of shining, expensive leather. His valet must have labored hard to produce such a shine. There was an air of wealth and confidence and power about the man. Charity felt distinctly uncomfortable in the pause before he spoke again.
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    Chapter 2
    How did one conduct an interview for a future wife? the Marquess of Staunton wondered.
    "The letter of recommendation from the rector of your former parish is impressive, Miss Duncan," he said.
    "Thank