The Painted Lady by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online

called out of Town on business, but do not mention what business it is. You are Caswell for the week, remember; you do not answer to lesser mortals. For your own information, and yours only, I am on a repairing lease. I will leave an address with Charles Warberry for emergencies. A fast horse on a slow track is not an emergency, nor is a sure bet at a mill, or a soiled dove outside the opera house. Is that understood?”
    Lord Jason drew himself up and puffed out his chicken chest. “Of course. I am Caswell, don’t you know. I understand everything.”
    The Duke of Caswell understood nothing, but he was trying to find the answers. He left the address of an inn he knew in Maidstone for Charles, a purse to be delivered to Baron Stallworth, and a heavier one to be sent to Ayers, for giving Dolly her congé. He threw some clothes into a satchel, ordered out his curricle and bays, tucked a pistol in his waistband, and drove out of London. He did not take his valet, his groom, or his ruby signet ring.
    He did not stop at the Lonsdale Street house.
    * * * *
    Miss Lilyanne Bannister went to her bedroom window at the sound of carriage wheels outside. Visitors called so rarely at Bannister Hall that a new arrival was news indeed. This one looked to be especially noteworthy. From the horses and equipage alone, she could tell he was a man of means. From the cut of his clothes and the set of his shoulders, she knew he was a man of sophistication, style, and strength. So what in Heaven’s name was he doing at Bannister Hall?
    For an instant she thought he might be Lady Edgecombe’s husband, come to retrieve his wife from Coventry after all these years. But Catherine’s husband must be well past the half-century mark, and this gentleman had the lean, limber gait of a much younger man as he swung down from the curricle as soon as one of the stable lads had his team in hand. He stopped to look around him, affording Lilyanne an unobstructed view of a handsome, fair-complexioned face with a firm jaw and a rather commanding nose. Lord Edgecombe was reputed, by Lady Edgecombe, to resemble a toad, warts and all.
    Too bad, Lilyanne thought, still staring out the window even after the gentleman was out of her sight, on his way to the front door steps. Too bad for Catherine, Lady Edgecombe, that her exile was not ended, and too bad for Lilyanne, that she’d have to endure another eternity of the woman’s endless carping.
    Either way, the handsome gentleman downstairs by now would not be staying long. They seldom did, conducting their business with her uncle as expeditiously as possible, ashamed that they had to approach him at all with their difficulty, relieved to have their embarrassments handled by someone more capable—and less visible to their friends and associates. An exchange of bank checks, a handshake, and the deed was done.
    Lilyanne assumed another difficult young lady would be landed on their doorstep within the week. She could only pray this one would merely be a girl too high-strung to make her curtsies to the Queen and not another like Lady Ursula, who tried to burn the house down, or Miss Morrison, who threw herself down on the ground, kicking, because she was being denied her debut. Gracious, Lilyanne hoped this new young lady would not be a watering pot like Miss Palmeter, imagining herself cursed by Fate because she was not permitted to marry the footman.
    Fate, Lilyanne reflected, and not for the first time, was no friend. She herself should have been one of the fortunate females enjoying a London Season, even if not at the apex of the Polite World. Her parents should not have died, leaving Lilyanne and her sister Lisbet to the care of Uncle Osgood. For that matter, Uncle Osgood should have been a respectable landowner like Lilyanne’s father, his older brother, instead of a physician, a failed physician, who never managed to cure anyone of anything. Thanks to the unkind hand of Fate, however, instead of joining the ranks