The Bachelor List by Jane Feather Read Free Book Online Page A

sleeve.”
    “Maybe,” her eldest sister agreed with another little smile. “Let's get on with this Go-Between advertisement.”
    “Do you want chocolate in your milk, Chas?” Prudence broke a square off a bar of chocolate.
    “Yes, please.”
    “How can you two drink that sickly stuff?” Constance said. “I shall have some cognac instead.”
    “Each to his own.” Prudence dropped two squares of chocolate into the saucepan, stirring it with a wooden spoon. A few minutes later she brought two wide-mouthed cups filled with dark, fragrant liquid over to the sofa, where Chastity was laying out the sheets of closely written paper.
    Constance poured a small measure of cognac into a glass, took a ham sandwich, and then carried the plate over, holding the sandwich in her mouth. She set the plate down on the low table in front of the sofa and reflectively chewed her sandwich. “Why don't we have a banner headline for the advertisement? Just under the title. It'll draw the most attention.”
    Chastity took a clean sheet of paper and a sharpened pencil. “What shall we say?”
    “Are you lonely? Craving companionship? Do you spend long evenings with your own thoughts?”
Prudence began, helping herself to a sandwich.
“Can't find the right match . . .”
    “You need a Go-Between.”
Constance chimed in.
“The Go-Between service will help you find your match. We guarantee discretion; we guarantee security. All inquiries personally vetted and personally answered. Send us your—”
    “Not so fast,” Chastity protested. “I'm trying to write this down.” She paused to drink some of her hot chocolate.
    Her sisters waited patiently until she took up the pencil again. “All right.
Send us your . . .”
She looked up inquiringly. “Your what?
Requirements.
No, that sounds a bit clinical.”
    “Desires?” suggested Prudence, settling her glasses more securely on her nose.
    Constance choked on her sandwich. “We're not advertising a brothel, Prue.”
    Prudence grinned. “I suppose it might sound a little suspect.”
    “How about something really straightforward?
Send us a brief account of yourself and a description of the person you would like to meet. We will do the rest.
” Chastity scribbled fiercely as she spoke.
    “Bravo, Chas. That's perfect.” Constance applauded. “Now we need an address.”
    “Why don't we ask Jenkins if his sister would mind getting this mail? She has a corner shop in Kensington and I know she acts as a poste restante for people in the neighborhood who don't have a proper address for whatever reason. It would be easy enough to fetch it from her.” Prudence brought over the basket of macaroons. “Jenkins is on our side in all of this, after all.”
    “Just as he was on Mother's.” Chastity took a macaroon and bit into its gooey depths with a little murmur of pleasure. “He used to run her errands for
The Mayfair Lady
if one of us couldn't do it.”
    “I'll just run down and ask him. He won't be in bed yet.” Constance went to the door. “That way we can get this finished tonight.”
    Jenkins, ensconced in the butler's pantry with a tankard of ale, listened to the request with his customary imperturbability. “I'm sure my sister will be agreeable, Miss Con,” he said, when she'd finished her explanation. “I'll be seeing her on Sunday evening, as usual. I'll explain the situation to her then. You'll be wanting the address.” He took a sheet of paper from the dresser and wrote in his meticulous hand.
    “That's wonderful, Jenkins,” Constance said warmly as she took the paper. “Thank you so much.”
    “No trouble at all, Miss Con.”
    Constance smiled, bade him good night, and hurried back upstairs to the parlor. “That's all settled,” she said as she closed the door behind her.
    “Did he think it was a strange request?” Chastity asked.
    “Not particularly. He's used to the eccentricities of this family,” Constance replied with a grin. “Here's the address.” She