Molly by M.C. Beaton Read Free Book Online Page B

his powers of attraction. Then he should have his revenge. He would have that little American trembling breathlessly in his arms before the month was out. But how to break down her guard? He needed an ally. Then he remembered Roderick, Marquess of Leamouth. Roddy, with his engaging ways, his mop of golden curls, and his Greek profile. Roddy, who could charm the heart of the most bitter dowager. That was it! Roddy would court the young one and he the older. And what girls in the whole of the British Empire could stand an onslaught like that?
    Several days of elocution lessons, dancing lessons, deportment lessons, and dress fittings had passed. The glorious sunset that was Molly’s eye was fading nicely.
    The next event on the girls’ social calendar seemed a simple one. They were to stand behind Lady Fanny on a makeshift platform in Hadsea High Street and watch her take the salute as the local Boy Scout troop marched past. Then when she handed prizes for merit to deserving boys, they were to hand her the appropriate books. Nothing could be simpler.
    The girls looked as cool and pretty as salads in organza dresses of palest green and large, shady straw hats bound with wide silk ribbons of the same color.
    Lady Fanny looked impressive in an afternoon suit of white raw silk that she had had designed especially for the occasion. It had military epaulets in gold and scarlet silk and the bosom of her long, straight jacket was embellished by crossed gold cords. Her long skirt, hobbled in the latest fashion, had seemed so divine on the models in the showroom but now seemed to be in danger of bursting at the seams under the pressure of Lady Fanny’s mannish strides.
    The girls were sitting primly on the sofa in the drawing room while Lady Fanny rehearsed her speech.
    “My lords, ladies and—
cough, cough
—gentlemen… Oh, dear, I
would
get a cough at a time like this. What—
cough, cough, garrrh
—am I to—
cough
—do? It is nearly time to go.”
    Molly looked at Mary and Mary looked at Molly.
    “I know you said we weren’t to mention it,” said Molly, “but you
have
got a terrible cough and we have got a bottle of Maguires’ Leprechaun Dew in our trunk upstairs.”
    “I’ll—cough—try
anything
,” said Lady Fanny weakly.
    Molly reappeared a few minutes later, holding a bottle. The leprechaun looked evilly at Lady Fanny and Lady Fanny looked doubtfully back. She was about to refuse when she was overtaken by another fit of coughing. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and straightened her smart military shako. She
must
be all right for the parade. Lady Ann Abbott, her dearest rival, was to be present. She picked up the bottle of Maguires’ Leprechaun Dew and after eyeing it for a few seconds with all the enthusiasm of Juliet viewing Friar Lawrence’s phial, she swallowed half the contents.
    “Dear, goodness me!” she exclaimed. “That was unexpectedly pleasant. Come, girls, let us go. Chins up and best foots forward… I mean feets… feet. Oh, dear!” she ended with a surprisingly girlish giggle. “I feel simply marvelous.”
    Molly stood nervously behind Lady Fanny on the rostrum and wondered what to do. Should she risk the Maguire fortunes by informing Lady Fanny that Maguires’ Leprechaun Dew was 140 proof? Surely they had enough money already. Lady Fanny was sitting with her hands on her knees and a vacant smile on her face, rather like the end man at a minstrel show waiting for Rastus to elucidate.
    Molly took a tentative step forward. But it was then that she heard the first strains of the band. Molly cried listening to bands the way other women cry at weddings. To her, the sound of a marching band was all the essence of lost summers and lost childhood rolled into one. Lady Fanny, the rostrum, the dignitaries, the mayor, the Boy Scouts, and Hadsea all faded away to be replaced by the smells and noises of childhood New York. Her ears rang with the rattle of the elevated trains, the shrill cries