Shana Galen by Prideand Petticoats Read Free Book Online Page B

situation.
    “My lord, what happened to your coat?” the man Dewhurst had called Wilkins screeched. He reached out a trembling hand, brushing Dewhurst’s coat with one finger. He shuddered visibly. Charlotte frowned. The coat looked fine to her.
    “The wrinkled look is all the go in the city these days,” Dewhurst said jauntily. “Haven’t you heard?”
    “No,” the man said, looking horrified. “You cannot possibly be serious, my lord. That coat is ruined. ”
    Dewhurst shrugged. “Even so.”
    Charlotte couldn’t suppress a smile. Poor man. Dewhurst was—what had he called it on board ship? hoaxing?—Dewhurst was hoaxing the man, and the gullible servant believed it.
    “Lady Dewhurst, meet Wilkins, my valet. He keeps me in top form.”
    Charlotte held her hand out to the servant, but the man simply gaped at her. “ Lady Dewhurst, my lord? Whatever can you mean?”
    Dewhurst smiled, that lazy smile that gave him so much charm. “Congratulations are in order, Wilkins. I’ve taken a bride.”
    Wilkins gasped, gave her a look rife with disapproval and disbelief, then took a full two steps back. Charlotte glanced down at her dress. She didn’t look that unkempt. Did she? She searched for something to say. It was important to have the support and loyalty of the servants if her time here was to be tolerable. She settled on complimenting the house.
    “You have a lovely home, Dewhurst,” she said, glancing at the black and white marble stairs and the gleaming chestnut banister. The chandelier itself sparkled as though covered with a million diamonds. How much was it worth? How much were the paintings on the walls worth? And what of the rest of the house? There were doors on either side of her, stark white, but closed so that she couldn’t glimpse their treasures. She had best not become too used to living amid such elegance. It would not last. “You are to be commended, Mr. Wilkins,” she finished.
    Wilkins stared at her, then turned to Dewhurst. “My lord?”
    “No, Wilkins, she’s not British.” He grinned at her, taking her hand in his. Charlotte was suddenly glad of the solidarity between them.Though it was nothing more than a sham, it was all she had.
    “Scottish, my lord?” the valet continued, as if she weren’t standing there.
    “American,” Dewhurst said, and the valet put a hand to his throat. If possible, his pale face turned paler. “Now might be a good time for you to pay the hack’s driver, Wilkins.”
    “Of course, my lord,” he said, voice sounding thin and reedy. He turned to the door, still standing open, and promptly screamed like a little girl.
    “Lawd Almighty. What the matter with that man?” Addy asked, stepping into the foyer. “That noise’s hurting my ears.”
    “Wilkins,” Dewhurst said, raising his voice to be heard over the din. “Stop that infernal noise. This is Miss Addy, Lady Dewhurst’s maid.”
    “That”—Wilkins pointed to Addy—“that giant will be living here, my lord?”
    “And she’s to be treated with all due respect,” Dewhurst said. Wilkins swallowed, took a step forward as though to greet Addy, then fell on the floor in a heap.
    “Oh, good God. This is intolerable.” Freddie turned to Charlotte, expression looking weary and frustrated “You—you’ve felled my valet.” He gestured to the fallen man in accusation. “What now, madam? Midnight rides? Yankee Doodle? Tea parties on the Thames? Dashed upstart colonists.” And he strode away.

Chapter 4
    C harlotte watched her “husband” retreat. Even though he must be as exhausted as she, he held himself with undeniable aristocratic bearing. Arrogant, imperialistic, condescending: her “spouse” was everything she’d always hated about the British. And more. She let out a small, inelegant, decidedly unaristocratic snort. British nobles and their misguided sense of honor. She’d been in England all of one day and his house not twenty minutes, and the so-called nobleman was already