The American Heiress by Daisy Goodwin Read Free Book Online Page A

besides carry hot water and lay fires. They could teach or make hats or learn to use typewriting machines.’ Cora knew that her mother was always losing her maids to shops and offices. The wages were better and they could have all the admirers they liked.
    ‘Indeed they could, Miss Cash. But I suspect that most of them just want to earn a wage until they get married, and a big house like this is a very good place to find a husband.’
    ‘Yes, I’ve heard about the marriage market in the servants’ hall from Bertha.’
    ‘Bertha is your maid?’ The man’s tone was amused.
    ‘Yes, she came over with me from the States.’
    ‘And as an American girl, she has no objections to being in service?’
    Cora almost laughed. Hadn’t she given Bertha three of her old dresses last month? How could Bertha be anything but happy.
    She said in her most dignified tone, ‘Bertha, I assure you, is very grateful for the opportunity to work for me. I wonder if you can say that about any of your maids?’
    Maltravers’ reply was lost as the housekeeper came in with a writing desk which she arranged on the bed in front of Cora. She had brought a quantity of thick cream paper. Cora picked up a sheet with a crest at the top and the single word Lulworth underneath. She had been in England long enough to understand that understatement was all. Lulworth was clearly an ‘important’ house and its owner must have some kind of title. But then why hadn’t he told her when he gave his name? The English were infuriating. Everything was designed to put an outsider at a disadvantage. If you had to ask, you didn’t belong.
    The man walked to the end of the bed and looked down at her. ‘I shall leave you to write to your mother in peace. But before I go, satisfy my curiosity on one point. Why, if you find the English system so distasteful, are you here? I thought you Americans rather liked our quaint customs and antiquated ways, yet you don’t seem to find us charming at all.’
    Cora looked at him. His tone was light and yet there was an edge to his voice. She was pleased that she had nettled him. He had the advantage, but still she had piqued him.
    ‘Oh, I would have thought that should be obvious. As an American heiress I have come here to buy the one thing I can’t get at home, a title. My mother would like a prince of the blood, but I think she would settle for a duke. Does that satisfy your curiosity?’
    ‘Perfectly, Miss Cash. I hope you will invite your mother to spend a few days here at Lulworth. I won’t hear of you leaving until the doctor has given you a clean bill of health. And I rather think your mother will like it here, despite our lack of bathrooms. You see, while I may not be a prince, I am the Ninth Duke of Wareham.’
    Cora felt the bile rushing into her mouth again. She waved her hands in front of her face.
    The Duke was all concern. ‘Mrs Softley, I think Miss Cash is feeling unwell.’
    Cora managed to contain her nausea until the Duke had left the room.

Chapter 5

The Black Pearl

    M RS CASH WAS ARRANGING FOLDS OF TULLE around her neck. By candlelight, in the foxed silver of the pier glass, the effects of the accident were almost unnoticeable; only the shiny tautness where the flesh had been burnt showed up in this forgiving light. For anyone sitting on Mrs Cash’s right side there would have been no reason to suspect there was anything wrong; it was only when she turned her head that the ravages of the fire were revealed. At least, thought Mrs Cash, her right profile had always been generally the more admired. She had been lucky, the flames had not actually reached her left eye, although the area around it had been singed. The scars as they formed had pulled the skin tight, so that in this half-light the damaged side of Mrs Cash’s face was a grotesque facsimile of youthfulness. She half closed her eyes and through the blur she could see the spectre of the girl she had been. She pulled at the hairpiece of curls