Page 10 of The Earl's Hired Bride
“Ah, there it is,” Hestia murmured. “I assume you are in a bind? In need of funds?”
Emily nodded, her mind working frantically.
“Did you not think to come to me?”
“No!” She should have. It hadn’t occurred to her. She’d thought the women who approached Hestia Wright were those in truly dire circumstances or mortal danger . . .
“Well, I can see the wheels turning now. And I may be in a position to help you, my dear, if you will but answer a few questions.”
Emily nodded, still not quite recovered from her shock.
“Your name is Emily Spencer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Just Hestia, if you please. “And whatdoyou intend to do with Miss Carmichael?”
She explained.
Hestia looked pleased at the end of it. “Inventive. But I imagine her mother would be a blocking point. How will you convince her to consider the purchase of a new wardrobe?”
“I wrote her mother an anonymous note, stating that polite Society was not being so polite about her daughter’s overblown, outdated, countrified fashions.”
“Inventive,” Hestia said approvingly. “She won’t like that. And you have the good judgment to use a light touch.”
“Not so light,” Emily admitted. “I did make the arrangement with Madame ahead of time.”
“Good planning will not make me think any less of you, my dear. But tell me, do you not have any family? No one to turn to, instead of going to such efforts?”
“No.” Emily hesitated. “Notrealfamily—and not anyone I would trust to have our best interests at heart.”
Hestia Wright regarded her thoughtfully, and the moment stretched out. The Carmichaels turned into the park, and Emily made the choice to continue strolling with Hestia while she mulled her situation over.
“Very well,” Hestia said at last. “The situation I have in mind is . . . peculiar. But you are the right age and well-spoken.” She paused. “You can read?”
“Of course!” She spoke dourly. “And my mathematics are up to par, as well.”
Hestia laughed. “Can you dance, by any chance?”
“Dance?” Now that one startled her. “Not really, beyond a few country dances.”
“Well, that could be explained away. Do Americans dance, after all? I don’t really know.”
“Americans?” Emily’s mind started to race. “Is this a position that you speak of? I’m not sure I could take a position . . . depending on the circumstances and definitely not if it required me to move away. I could not leave and abandon my . . . obligations.”
“It is a temporary position only, my dear, and right here in London. But it would require you to relocate for a few weeks. Do you think that your obligations could do without you for a few weeks? You would be well compensated for your trouble.”
Emily thought a moment. “Perhaps. If I could be advanced part of that compensation.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged.” Hestia leaned in close. “It is a strange situation, there is no doubt. But it might be just what you need. There is a peer of the realm, you see, and he is in dire circumstances . . .”
Chapter 3
Wasthat the girl she had in mind? The one to play his betrothed? Hart did as Hestia bade him and stayed in the carriage, but he craned his neck, trying to see. He’d caught only a glimpse of the girl before Hestia moved her off ahead of the carriage. He’d noticed only an oversized pelisse and a smart little bonnet. Now, straining, he could only make out a plain gown peeking out from underneath her outerwear—and that she talked with great animation. They stayed, conversing for several minutes before Hestia turned and headed back toward the coach, bringing the girl with her.
He sat back, on edge now that the moment was at hand. But he would find a way to be left in peace. And he was wild with curiosity to see the girl Hestia thought would do for his unusual request.
The coachman climbed down and moved to open the door. Still talking over her shoulder to Hestia, the girl climbed in first. She sounded full of energy and anticipation, and then she turned her head. She caught sight of him, waiting there—and froze.
