Never Lie to a Lady by Liz Carlyle Read Free Book Online

welcome as I would be. After all, I am not without influence in Town, my dear. And—and why, perhaps you will have fun, too! Oh, my dear, do say you will do it.”
    Xanthia hesitated. Dear heaven! Her hope of never seeing Mr. Nash again was on the verge of collapse. “But I am an unmarried woman,” she protested. “That really is not ideal. Is it?”
    “But you are a mature woman,” said Pamela firmly. “It must be you or Christine. It must be family, and Mamma cannot do it. Besides, she and Louisa always quarrel. All you will need is Kieran’s escort, or Sharpe’s. There will almost always be a cardroom to pacify them.”
    Xanthia let out her breath on a sigh. Kieran would not like this any better than she, but he had an uncharacteristic fondness for Cousin Pamela. “Of course we shall be happy to help, Pamela,” she answered. “But there are a few things, my dear, which you ought to consider.”
    Pamela’s pale eyebrows lifted. “Yes? Of what sort?”
    Xanthia dared not tell her about the intriguing Mr. Nash. “Well, you know that I am greatly involved with Neville Shipping,” she said instead.
    “Oh, yes, dear,” she said. “You so often speak of it.”
    “But what you may not realize is that I—well, I spend a good deal of time there. Literally. At the business.”
    Pamela seemed to consider it. “Well, you do own a third of it,” she mused. “One must look after one’s interests, I daresay.”
    “Actually, I own twenty-five percent,” she said. “Kieran has twenty-five, and Martinique the twenty-five she inherited when Luke died. Gareth Lloyd, our business agent, now owns the remaining twenty-five percent.”
    “Does he indeed?” said Pamela. “I was not aware.”
    “Well, that is neither here nor there,” Xanthia continued. “The truth is, I more or less manage Neville Shipping.”
    Pamela nodded cheerfully. “Yes, you once suggested something of that sort.”
    Xanthia took her cousin’s hand again and vowed to make her listen. “Pamela, I go into the East End in a carriage to work every day,” she said, her voice firm. “I sit in an office surrounded by men, in a grimy little house in an especially grimy street in Wapping—which is filled with some of the most disreputable people imaginable—and I dearly love it. People stare at me, Pamela. One day a man near the London docks spat at me. Most of them do not think I belong—and no one amongst the ton is apt to disagree with that assessment.”
    “Oh. Oh, I see.” Pamela was blinking owlishly. “Is it…is it rather like having a shop, would you say? Mrs. Reynolds once had a shop, you know. But now she is Lady Warding.”
    “Yes, but I never shall be Lady Warding, or anything like it,” Xanthia gently pressed. “I shall always be Miss Neville who has the utter lack of breeding to keep a job—and to do men’s work. For that is what they shall say, Pam, if the word gets out. And it will sound worse, I fear, than being a mere shopkeeper.”
    Pamela pursed her lips, and shook her head. “You have a right, Xanthia, to look after yourself,” she insisted. “If Kieran supports your doing that, then it is no one else’s business.”
    “No, it is not,” Xanthia agreed with asperity. “But if it gets out—which it will—then the gossips shall make it their business.”
    Pamela relaxed against the chaise and patted Xanthia’s hand. “Oh, if it gets out, you will merely be thought an eccentric,” she answered. “Indeed, my dear, with your charm and your dash, you might make it quite the rage. Perhaps it will become fashionable to have one’s own company? I should choose hats, myself. How does one make them, do you suppose? In any case, I am not worried on Louisa’s behalf.”
    Xanthia smiled faintly. Employment really was a foreign concept to her cousin, who had been raised every inch a lady. “Very well, then,” she murmured. “You have been warned.”
    “So I have, and now that that is all settled, I want you to