The Wicked Guardian by Vanessa Gray Read Free Book Online Page A

for her to go in such fear.”
    “I agree,” said Clare. For a moment she played with the thought of telling Lady Thane that she too would return to Penryck Abbey, and rusticate in consoling silence. She had not felt so low in her mind since she had come to town. And it was not quite clear whether it was the unaccustomed gaiety or the constant anxiety lest she put a foot wrong that preyed on her so.
    But Lady Thane had already forgotten Budge, and moved again to the subject that engrossed her. “Choate is a stickler, you know. And he has such credit—you will not believe this, but I know of three cases where he simply gave such a look, and quite put the girls in the shade. Too bad of him, of course, and not quite kind, but ... my girl, facts are facts, and we would be wrong not to face up to them.”
    But Clare was listening with only half her mind. “Then there is your ball, Lady Thane, and I must not fail that.”
    Lady Thane, unaware of Clare’s brooding upon a return home to Penryck Abbey, where she was known and loved, misunderstood. “Of course you must not. But depend upon me, we will not see Lord Choate in this house that evening. Unless, of course”—she furrowed her brow in thought—“unless he takes pity on your innocence.”
    “I do not think him capable of pity,” said Clare firmly.
    “No more do I,” said Lady Thane mournfully. “Depend upon it, my dear, you have made a formidable enemy in him.”
    Clare’s heart sank to her satin-shod toes. She had not mentioned to her godmother the spirited repartee that had occurred just before her entrance. She could not imagine what Lady Thane’s reaction would be had she known of Clare’s outright defiance of the arbiter of the fashionable world. An enemy, indeed! If Benedict had had his way, Clare had no doubt that she would even now be blasted into a pile of cinders.
    There were still several days before the ball. Depend upon it, Lady Thane had warned, we will not see Lord Choate here again. How embarrassing it must have been for that Corinthian to pick up a young lady from the public walk. And escort her home, with a great rent in her gown, and her bonnet sadly alop.
    But if he had been the kind of man Clare admired, she thought darkly, he would not have minded that.
    Lady Thane’s pessimism did not lie deep. Of a cheerful disposition, but something of a realist, she had not held much hope that Lord Choate would distinguish her goddaughter in any way. Now, upon wishful reflection, she believed that Lord Choate also could not be troubled to exert himself to put down Clare’s possible pretensions.
    Marianna Morton had a hint of hardness in her face, thought Lady Thane, that indicated that Lord Choate would find she required all his dutiful attention. And that, Lady Thane decided with satisfaction, would keep him from refining upon Clare’s youthful awkwardness.
    In due time the incident dropped from the thoughts of both Lady Thane and Clare. The preparations for the party still took Lady Thane’s attention. One full day was spent with Mrs. Darrin and the man from Gunter’s on the confections to be served. And another day arranging for flowers and a plethora of potted palms.
    Clare was glad enough, therefore, to receive an invitation from Lady Warfield to go riding in the park with her and her daughter. Quite likely, Sir Alexander would escort them. “Pray say that I might go,” begged Clare. And Lady Thane, somewhat surprised that Lady Warfield wished to contrast Clare’s pretty face with the plain face of her own daughter, agreed at once.
    But she had misjudged Lady Warfield. That lady was not planning to marry her daughter to anyone except a distant cousin in Scotland, who was not of the fashionable world but who had what Lady Warfield considered an indecent number of sheep and five castles, or was it eight? She never could remember. At any rate, Clare’s undoubted fresh beauty stirred no jealousy in Eugenia’s heart, and Lady Warfield smiled