The Secret Lover by Julia London Read Free Book Online Page A

yer knickers into such a knot, laddie. Have a spot of tea and see if that won't cure yer vapors," she said, and still chuckling, hobbled out of the room as a stunned Fabrice and Roland gaped at her departing back. They spent the rest of the day and that week avoiding her.
    Honorine, however, seemed oblivious to the juxtaposition of the woman's personality and culinary skills, much less her severe countenance, and made the mistake of trying to engage her in conversation. Lucie Cowplain did not respond to Honorine's endless chatter, but merely glowered at her, until the evening she apparently reached her limits.
    "Madame Fortier," she said in a gruff voice, "ye'll pay me to work, not to speak. If ye want me in yer employ, I'll thank ye kindly to leave yer prattling to the likes of her," she said, waving bent fingers at Sophie, "or find yourself another. I ain't hired on to be yer nursemaid, no I ain't."
    That clearly took Honorine by surprise. For once she was speechless, her mouth open and wide blue eyes blinking. Lucie Cowplain shifted from one hip to the other, regarding her calmly, waiting for Honorine to decide.
    After a moment, Honorine said softly, "
Oui, madame
."
    Satisfied, Lucie Cowplain nodded her ancient head and wobbled like a crab from the dining room.
    Honorine turned to Sophie, tears brimming in her eyes. "So cruel is this woman!" she whispered, and quit the dining room almost as dramatically as Lucie Cowplain.
    For Sophie, Lucie Cowplain's arrival signaled a slowdown to the rhythm of her life. Worried that Ann would see her idleness as new opportunity to take her round to the drawing rooms, she was suddenly desperate for an occupation. In similar circumstance in other cities of the world, she had turned to charity work. In London, however, that seemed a rather daunting prospect, as there were more charitable organizations than one could count, and many women of the
ton
involved in all of them.
    There
was
one charity that interested her above all others—the house to which Claudia had taken her when she escaped Stanwood. But Sophie could not quite bring herself to mention the house on Upper Moreland Street, much less find it. Those jarring memories were always on the fringes of her consciousness, and she wasn't very sure she wanted to resurrect them.
    So she spent her time wandering Regent's Park each day, usually carrying a small picnic made up of the delectable treats she was learning to make from Lucie Cowplain. Having discovered a small pond she thought particularly pretty, she took her picnic there each day, along with a book. But more times than not, she spent her afternoon gazing across the small pond, to where a house was being constructed, fascinated by the building of it. Well, actually… she was far more interested in the men who built it than the structure itself.
    Men had become something of an enigma to her; strange creatures that made her skin flush with just a look, or tingle with a careless touch. Her dreams of them,
oh Lord
… they were decadent, sensual, and so very close to satisfying as to drive her mad.
Close
, they were, but not quite.
    Tormenting was more like it.
    One man in particular had caught her eye—she gathered he was a foreman of sorts, as he always appeared on horseback, in a gentleman's suit of clothes. He would gracefully leap down, and arms akimbo, stalk about surveying the work done that morning. At that point, he would inevitably shed his coat and waistcoat, roll up the sleeves of his lawn shirt, and wade into the middle of the work, directing the others.
    She would watch him for what seemed like hours. The man had wavy, sandy blond hair that brushed the top of his collar, impossibly wide shoulders, and narrow hips conveniently outlined for her viewing pleasure by the fabric of his tight trousers. He was truly a magnificent sight to behold from all angles, and Sophie did indeed behold him, locking his image away in the corner of her mind. He was delectable, a work of