Winning Miss Wakefield: The Wallflower Wedding Series Read Free Page B

half-hiding behind it. “With your Wakefield brow, you look positively mocking.”
    A fact that could hardly be helped. She was, after all, a Wakefield.
    While her late mother had been touted as a pure beauty, with flaxen hair and soft beatific features, Merribeth had inherited her father’s devilishly dark hair and sharp, angular eyebrows. During his life, he’d been famous for the severe arch. However, her feminine version of the same had only brought her censure. Those who did not take the time to know her assumed her mocking countenance meant she saw herself as superior.
    As a gently bred woman with no dowry to speak of, that was hardly the case. Only her aunt and her closest friends in the needlework circle truly knew her. Oh, how she wished Penelope, Emma, and Delaney were here to help her through this evening.
    Merribeth did her best to school her features and rearranged the fall of curls over her forehead for good measure, silently wishing that her Wakefield brow was the only flaw in her appearance.
    Sophie didn’t seem to notice and instead walked toward the door. “We should return. I’m certain we’ve missed the first act by now. Surely we can discuss this new plan to greater depth before your party.”
    “Of course,” Eve said, closing her fan with a snap, a slow grin curling the corners her mouth as they started down the hall. When they neared the stairs, she stopped abruptly. “Devil take it! I’ve forgotten my lorgnette.”
    Sophie placed her hand on the polished rail. “I’m certain you’ll see the play clearly enough. It is a very small amphitheater.”
    “The lorgnette isn’t for the play, darling,” Eve purred as she turned to Merribeth and glanced down the hallway. “How careless of me. I must have left my reticule in the study when I stole in there for a glass of port earlier. Merribeth, be a dear and fetch them for me. It’s just at the end of this hall and around the corner.”
    Merribeth hesitated, suddenly suspicious of the tragedy of the missing reticule.
    Turning her, Eve gave her a playful push. “But of course, I would never forgive you if you hid in the study all evening. So, hurry back. We’ll save a place in the back row for you.”
    Even though the specter of suspicion loomed overhead, Merribeth had to admit that the idea of doing exactly what Eve suggested she not do was so appealing that she went without argument. After all, the likelihood of her aunt’s friend introducing her to unscrupulous gentlemen when she returned was too high to ignore.
    As she walked at a fine clip down the hall, the thought was enough to expose the raw edges of her irritation and her Wakefield brow again. Heaven forbid .
    “If I feel like hiding in the study for the rest of the evening, I will. Or if I feel like handing over Eve’s reticule to a footman and then hiring a hack to drive me home, I’ll do that too,” she said to herself with an admirable degree of conviction.
    The latter held the most promise.
    Finding the study, she pulled open the door, hoping to retrieve the reticule and then leaving Lady Amherst’s immediately. However, the light inside the room was dim, with only the wall sconces behind her to aid her search.
    In the center of the room, two leather wingback chairs and a tufted sofa faced an unlit hearth. A large desk sat against the far wall. No reticule in sight. Yet she soon realized that with the curtains drawn in the room, her trespass into the study could easily be discovered by any of the guests outside.
    Not wanting any more attention this evening, Merribeth quietly closed the doors.
    Now, the only illumination came from the parted curtains, where the glow of torchlight from the outdoor stage filtered in like strands of pale gold silk. The muffled voices of the actors and a spattering of laughter from the audience drifted in as well, pulling her across the room and toward the tall, narrow window.
    From this vantage point, she could see everything of the play and