To Rescue a Rogue by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online

that, miss! Sure sign of bad news, that is. Why, just before we heard that the old earl was dead and your poor father must become Earl of Marlowe, I’d just said those exact words. A shiver took me and I said, ‘A goose just walked across my grave.’ I swear it’s true.”
    â€œI don’t doubt it,” Mara said, but she wanted to roll her eyes.
    Last year the knowledge that their distant relation, the Earl of Marlowe, was on his deathbed had hung around Brideswell like a cold fog, making them all shiver one way or another because the death would bring terrible changes.
    It would turn her father, plain Mr. St. Bride and happy to be so, into the earl. Worse still, the Earl of Marlowe’s principal seat was a mansion in Nottinghamshire that was famous around the world for its classical perfection and they would all have to live there for part of the year. It couldn’t be abandoned.
    Even the joy of Simon’s safe return from Canada hadn’t entirely dispelled gloom. Geese must have been stampeding backward and forward across the graveyard.
    Simon’s return had brought the solution, however. Her father had inherited the earldom and Simon, as heir, had become Lord Austrey. Nothing could prevent that. However, Simon and his new wife had taken on the duty of living in and caring for Marlowe. The St. Bride family, greatgrandparents to babies, was free to continue living in cozy, imperfect Brideswell.
    Though Simon clearly loved their home, he couldn’t feel as strongly about it as the rest of them. After all, he’d fought to leave, to travel, and then spent years in Canada.
    Despite Black Ademar’s hair, Mara shuddered at the thought of spending so much time away or, worse, living far from home. Northumberland! Berkstead was mad.
    A tap on the door brought the footman with a note. Mara opened it, excited even though she knew what it must be.
    From Dare, formally requesting the pleasure of her company on a drive at ten. She’d never seen his writing before and considered it. Long tops and tails, but very neat. She felt strangely sure that his writing would once have been wilder, freer. She refolded it and put it in the desk drawer.
    â€œI suppose I must ask Ella’s permission. Go and see if she’s able to see me, please.”
    When Ruth left, Mara put on her shoes, aware of the tenderness of her feet. How fortunate that she’d arranged a drive rather than a walk.
    Her mind drifted to Dare’s gentle cleaning. Did men often wash their lady’s feet? She couldn’t imagine no-nonsense George washing Ella’s. But Simon washing his wife, Jancy’s? Yes, perhaps.
    Something about Simon and Jancy had been an education, perhaps especially as Jancy was Mara’s own age. The newlyweds behaved properly in public, of course, and all lovers could be caught looking at one another, or sharing secret smiles.
    Simon and Jancy’s connection had seemed intense, however. Almost hot. Hot enough to send a shiver through Mara, for what sense that made. Certainly her Lincolnshire suitors had seemed even more dull after that.
    She tied a ribbon, thinking that perhaps she was ruled by Black Ademar’s hair after all. Not into seeking travel and adventure, but in matters of the heart.
    She shook herself. Simon seemed to have burned through his wanderlust. Perhaps after a bit more London mayhem, she’d happily settle down with one of her quiet, dependable neighbors. Matthew Corbin, perhaps, or Giles Gilliatt.
    Or with Dare? Her heart gave a patter of warning.
    But he was from Somerset—almost as far from Brideswell as Northumberland. Impossible.
    She went to the dressing table to put in pearl and garnet earrings. After a hesitation, she added just a touch of rouge to her lips.
    What are you doing, Mara?
    Anyone would think she was trying to attract Dare.
    Nonsense, but deep inside, something purred.
    Ruth returned. “Lady Ella’s free to see you,