War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5 by Lynne Connolly Read Free Book Online Page B

since that disastrous season in York. Her mother had chosen most of her clothes, but since she was used to selecting items that suited shorter, prettier girls, they mostly turned out horribly wrong for Ruth’s lanky form.
    “My aunts bought new clothes every season,” he said. “There are trunks full in the attic. Select a few. Take six.”
    “Six!” She had never owned so many garments in her life. “I’m sure I won’t need that many.”
    “Nevertheless, take them. I wish to recommence our dinners, and you should dress decently, so use three for that. You know how to dress for dinner?”
    She nodded. Neatly, but with a lower neckline and longer skirts than she used for the daytime. Without drawing too much attention to herself, of course. That, her mother had told her, ignoring the efforts of her youngest child to be noticed everywhere she went, would be vulgar. Perhaps she’d find fine lawn for neckwear, and even a ruffle or two.
    “Come with me,” he said.
    Obediently, she followed him. He strode along a wide corridor and then up a flight of stairs and into a room she had never entered before. It looked like a private sitting-room, although the furnishings, like many in this room, were shrouded in Holland covers.
    He dragged down a cloth, revealing a portrait. “That’s my mother,” he said. “You see why I cannot consider her clothes suitable for you.”
    The portrait showed a delicate blonde lady, sitting on a bench under an oak. She wore a broad hat, a pale blue gown with wide hoops and a disapproving frown. “She was lovely.”
    “Yes, she was. I took after my father. She was short and blonde. Not at all like you.”
    “No.” Of course, Ruth was tall and mousy. She would never make a society beauty. “I am built on different lines.”
    He stared up at the portrait in silence, a frown between his dark brows. Ruth did not want to interrupt his memories, but his studied silence made her uncomfortable.
    “She was a devil,” he said.
    What did that mean? Had she been unfaithful? Was that why her son put so much stock in honesty?
    With a decisive movement, he turned his back on the portrait and met her gaze. The frown smoothed out. Ruth tried not to fidget.
    He studied her in silence until he eventually said, “I’m keeping you from your duties. Do not forget those clothes. In future, I will expect your appearance at dinner to be much more suitable than it was on your first night.”
    It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she was perfectly suitably dressed, but recalling he was her employer, not her equal, she merely bowed her head.
    “Go then, see what you can find. I can see you’re eager to be gone.”
    She turned and left as quickly as she could.
    * * * * *
    Ruth ventured into the attics later that day. She found them eerie, but in reasonable order. Furniture from centuries ago lined the walls, covers tossed over them, and as she went through to the other areas, she discovered trunks lined up as if waiting for the coach that would never come. Lifting the lid of one, she discovered the clothes his grace had promised. These were the clothes of a woman long dead, twenty or thirty years at the least. They smelled of camphor and lavender. Some of them looked unworn.
    Ruth chose a few items. Three for evenings, as the duke had instructed, and three more for the daytime. That was as many gowns as she’d ever owned in her life.
    The garments were made of fine silks and linens. She ventured to take a pair of stays, since she had left home with only one pair. Another unworn pair, of cream cotton with terracotta pinks printed on them, outmoded and they probably would not fit as well as her own, but she would have something to wear while her others were being laundered.
    She put them aside and passed on to the other rooms. Eventually, in a corner she discovered much of what she required for the nursery.
    She carried her bounty to the entrance in triumph. She would ask one of the footmen to carry