Wedded in Scandal Read Free Page A

climbed, and hauled one another up the ladders to the blessedly clean air. Mr. Hutchins collapsed just outside the entrance. By his wheezing breath, Robert knew the man was still alive. And in the sunlight, he didn’t see any blood beyond the small cuts that they all sported. Probably bruised badly and would soon hurt like the very devil, but just in case, Robert performed the medical inspection he’d been taught.
    He ran his hands over the man’s body, steadily, carefully probing for broken bones or unseen wounds. Nothing unexpected appeared.
    “You’ll live, Mr. Hutchins,” he finally managed to push out through his raw throat. Then he turned to look at the other miners. “Anyone else hurt?”
    “No, milord,” said Charlie. “Weren’t a real cave-in. Just a slide, like, and we’re all faster than him.”
    “Good, good,” said Robert as he dropped to his knees. Bloody hell, he felt weaker than a kitten. “One more thing, Mr. Hutchins.”
    “Yes, my lord?” the man wheezed.
    “You’re fired.”
    Helaine Talbott looked at the huge edifice before her and tried not to tremble. It was a wealthy home in an exclusive neighborhood. Five years ago, she would have sailed up the walkway, assured of her acceptance. But that was before her father had exposed himself as the Thief of the Ton. That was before his friends had cut him, his clubs had blackballed him, and he had disappeared to parts unknown. That was before his wife and daughter had sunk to the pits of penniless despair. And that was well before Helaine had discovered a strength inside her that defied even her father’s terrible blunders.
    That was before, and this was now. She had to remind herself that she was not coming to this establishment as a petitioner. She was offering a business deal, straight and simple. With luck and a lot of charm, she would emerge victorious. She would have to, because failing today would mean the poorhouse tomorrow.
    So she steeled her spine, went up the walkway, and took the knocker firmly, though she had to work around the faded black ribbon that signified mourning. Helaine was wearing her best gown, one appropriate to her former status. And when the door pulled open on well-oiled hinges, she gave the butler her most aloof smile.
    “I am here to visit with Lady Irene. Just tell her I’m an old school friend, as she won’t know my current name.”
    Such a cavalier attitude toward name would not be allowed in a pedigreed household. But this was a cit’s home, a family made wealthy through the shipping trade. Yes, Lady Irene had married down in title, but definitely up in wealth. As such, old friends from school would be rare indeed. Helaine had found that out herself when all of her childhood friends began giving her the cut direct.
    “You have no card?” sneered the butler.
    “Oh!” she gasped as she abruptly spun around. “My reticule!” Her reticule was safely settled on her dresser at home, but she pretended the height of despair. “I left it in the hackney! Oh, my! What am I to do now? I am visiting here and…oh, dear,” she moaned.
    It worked. The butler sighed and gestured her inside. From there it was a simple matter to smile up at the lady of the household, who was just now descending the stairs. Her name was Mrs. Knopp, and she was Irene’s mother-in-law. She was also everything that the
ton
liked to decry as an encroaching cit. She was large and loud and much too wealthy.
    Five years ago, Helaine would have noticed only that much and looked no deeper. But she was wiser now and took the time to see other small details about the woman. Her mourningdress was done in the most expensive fabric and style, so the household suffered no financial strain. But there was a great deal of strain in the lady’s eyes and her slightly forced gestures. Despite the woman’s bright smile, Helaine could see a sadness about her, as if a mantle of pain weighed her down.
    It was grief, of course. The woman had lost her only