For the Earl's Pleasure by Anne Mallory Read Free Book Online Page B

lacking.
    “Oh, no, finicky is not good. Your father used to say—”
    Abigail nodded absently at her mother and Mrs. Browning. Abigail was too used to the words and dire glances to really register them. Mrs. Browning had come highly recommended, and she had fulfilled her reputation so far, so Abigail tried not to let the woman upset her. After a while, all the jibes started to blend together in a sort of unending diatribe. And she had more important thoughts on her mind.
    “And your hair,” her mother tsked, bringing Abigail’s attention back. “It just hangs by the end of the evening. That maid of yours needs to secure the pins more tightly. It is absolutely unconscionable that you look so sloppy.”
    Mrs. Browning nodded sharply in agreement. Abigail tucked her one loose wisp of hair behind her right ear self-consciously. Not even four dozen strokes of her favorite brush could get it to behave.
    The thought of her brush—and its origin—brought pain. She tried to keep it from her face and shoved the emotion deep.
    “Mr. Farnswourth was kind enough not to say anything, but I could tell by the way he was looking at you that he noticed,” Mrs. Browning said. “A man wants a wife who takes pride in her appearance. He needs a woman who will run his household, his servants, and”—she jammed a finger into the leather seat—“someone upon whom he can depend to uphold the family image and honor. You must project that.”
    Abigail nodded along. It was always less tiring to do so.
    “And you need to stop taking so many turns about the room. It is fine if you are encouraging a specific suitor, but you seem to find an excuse to do so at the most unreasonable of times.” Mrs. Browning’s brows drew sharply together.
    Abigail could hardly justify why she had done so tonight. She sent a surreptitious glance to her mother. Had her mother watched her carefully enough to question her actions? She would be aghast. And more determined then ever to break Abigail of her tactile need.
    But her mother simply frowned at nothing, sitting, as usual, as far away from Abigail as the interior of their rented coach allowed. But one knee was tantalizingly close to hers. And the stress of the evening begged for some physical reassurance. If the carriage hit a large rut in the road, they would brush.
    At that moment the carriage shuddered slightly, and Abigail overly lurched forward in her seat. She bumped Mrs. Browning’s knee instead.
    “I say, Miss Smart.” She drew herself up and put her knees to the side out of reach. “Have you no more grace than an infant?”
    “My apologies, Mrs. Browning.”
    “I noticed that you displayed some strange behavior at the end of the night too.” Abigail looked resolutely back, trying to ignore the widening of her mother’s eyes to the right of their paid companion. “I thought you understood the consequences of—”
    Abigail jumped as Rainewood appeared on top of Mrs. Browning, Mrs. Browning’s flapping mouth somewhere near his chin. His face melded with the older woman’s in a grotesque fashion so that it looked as if she possessed an extra pair of features.
    The mouth superimposed over Mrs. Browning’s forehead spoke. “Tell me what is happening.”
    Abigail felt her lips part. How on earth had he come to be in the carriage?
    The lower mouth continued moving with words like consequences, trouble, marriage, and duty.
    “Why did I have trouble leaving the house?” The deep voice demanded, too masculine and intimate to come from her strict companion. “What forces am I facing? What are you?”
    “Abigail,” her mother said sharply. “Are you paying attention to Mrs. Browning?”
    “Of course I am, Mother,” she said automatically.
    Mrs. Browning’s eyes were narrowed in the middle of the horrific display of combined features. “And we will need to take advantage of Earl Raine wood’s notice of you the other night and the stir it created. Secure the affections of a few other