The Last Earl Standing by Blackwood Gemma

Author:Blackwood, Gemma
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2019-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

10

What Anthea really needed after a night of nearly ruined disguises, Bow Street Runners, attempted seduction by a wicked lord and several midnight kisses on a rooftop with a decidedly more desirable one, was to sleep until long past noon.

Unfortunately, a girl blessed with three sisters was never permitted to sleep late without a good reason. And, since she could not possibly tell them what she had done the night before, no reason could be given to Edith and Isobel as they bounded into Anthea’s room with a tray of breakfast they had made up themselves.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Edith threw herself onto Anthea’s bed with a bounce, nearly sending the cup of coffee flying from the tray she carried. Isobel kissed Anthea’s forehead, which had wrinkled into a despairing frown, and went to pull open the curtains.

“Are you unwell?” she asked, as Anthea groaned and pulled the covers over her head.

“She’s not ill, she’s lazy!” Edith yanked the covers back down. “Drink your coffee, Anthea, that will help. Had you forgotten we are all to visit Bartholomew Fair today? I wonder how you can stay in bed with such excitement before us!”

Anthea pushed herself upright and leaned forwards as Isobel solicitously arranged the cushions behind her so that she could sit up comfortably. “I slept very poorly last night,” she said. She supposed she ought to be grateful that she had managed to creep back into the house without anybody noticing. But with only three hours of sleep behind her, gratitude was in short supply.

“What kept you up?” asked Isobel, dabbing with her handkerchief at the coffee Edith had splashed on the bedcovers. “Have you been worrying about something?”

“It’s not Lord Streatham, is it?” asked Edith. She caught Isobel’s eye, and both girls grinned. “I mean, darling George!”

“George is nobody’s darling,” said Anthea airily. She took the coffee from the breakfast tray before Edith could do further damage. The memory of last night’s kisses burned hotter in her lips than the drink. “I simply didn’t sleep well. I don’t think I will come to the fair today, Edith. I will be too tired to enjoy it.”

And she had a column to write.

Edith bit her lip. “Isobel is right. You must be sick. Have you forgotten how to have fun?”

“The most fun I can imagine today is to be left alone with my books.”

Edith’s protests were cut off by a rhythmic rapping at the door. There could be only one owner of such a dynamic knock.

“Come in, Aunt Ursula!” the girls chimed together.

Aunt Ursula shuffled through the door in her dressing gown and slippers. “Anthea! Still abed!” She rattled her cane on the bedposts. “In my day, young ladies were up with the dawn.”

Anthea stifled a yawn. “I only wish I could be as virtuous as you were in your youth, Auntie.” Though, judging by some of her stories, virtue had never been the young Ursula’s chief concern.

“I’ll have none of your impudence!” Aunt Ursula grinned her gap-toothed grin. “Now, Edith, Isobel, off with both of you.

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