The Viscount and the Vicar's Daughter by Mimi Matthews

Author:Mimi Matthews [Matthews, Mimi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Perfectly Proper Press
Published: 2018-01-22T18:00:00+00:00

Sometime later Valentine descended from her room. The house was bustling with preparations for dinner, servants trotting up and down the threadbare halls in answer to the summons of their masters and mistresses. She walked briskly past them, her head down. She was so intent on avoiding any curious stares or impudent remarks that she didn’t see Mrs. Ravenscroft emerging from her room near the second floor landing.

“Oh!” Mrs. Ravenscroft’s much larger form collided with Valentine, nearly knocking her off of her feet. “Do be careful!”

Valentine staggered back a step before swiftly regaining her balance. “I beg your pardon!”

Mrs. Ravenscroft was only partially dressed, her embroidered silk dressing gown worn open over her corset and petticoats. “Where are you off to in such a rush?” she asked. “Dinner’s not for another hour.”

“Nowhere,” Valentine said. “I’m only… That is…I—”

“If you’re looking for Lord St. Ashton, you’ll find him in the billiards room.”

Valentine’s cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, but I’m not—”

“And if you should see my maid along the way, do send her along to my room. She’s supposed to be pressing my dinner dress but has been gone nearly half an hour.” Mrs. Ravenscroft sighed. “What a disaster this house party has become. I’ll be leaving in the morning on the eleven o’clock train to London. If you care to accompany me to the station, Miss March, you’re quite welcome.”

Valentine blinked in surprise. She didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Ravenscroft’s offer was kind. Unexpectedly so. But there was nothing for her in London—no friends, no family, and certainly no prospect of employment. Her only alternative to marrying Tristan was a third-class ticket back to Mrs. Pilcher in Hartwood Green who would, in turn, probably bundle her off to be companion to an elderly tyrant somewhere at the edge of the world. Or worse.

“I’m obliged to you, ma’am,” she said at last. “But—”

“But you’ll take your chances with St. Ashton.” Mrs. Ravenscroft’s red-rouged mouth tilted up in an indulgent smile. “I can’t fault you. He’s very handsome, isn’t he? But I wouldn’t depend on him, Miss March. St. Ashton has a well-earned reputation for being unreliable with the ladies. We none of us hold his interest for very long and I’ve seen many a broken heart that might have been avoided.”

“My heart is not in danger,” Valentine said quickly.

Mrs. Ravenscroft gave her a pitying look. “No, indeed. Forgive the advice. It was kindly meant.” She inclined her head and then, after one last look down the hall for her errant maid, withdrew back into her bedchamber, shutting the door behind her.

Valentine was shaken by the exchange. She stood there a moment, staring blankly at the intricate inlaid pattern of the closed door.

And then she resumed her journey down the stairs.

She didn’t know where the billiards room was and had to ask a passing footman for directions. He pointed her toward a room just beyond the Fairfords’ library. It was down a dark, narrow hallway. Fairford House had not yet been fitted for gas, and the candles in the wall sconces stood unlit.

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