Miss Charity's Case by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

alter, but she detected a sparkle in his eyes. “Her ladyship sent instructions in advance of her arrival.”
    â€œThank you so much.” She smiled as she put her arm about Joyce. “Would it be any trouble to add macaroons to the tray? My sister has developed quite a fondness for them.”
    Before the butler could speak, she heard, “Charity!”
    What had she done wrong now? At her great-aunt’s terse motion, she hurried to the doorway where Lady Eloise stood.
    â€œHave I not spoken to you, less than a week ago—if you would be so kind as to remember—that you should not speak to the servants as if they are your equals?” She scowled as she banged her cane on the floor. “You may not give a straw about your reputation, but I do. Come along now, and scotch any silly sentiments billowing from your lips.”
    â€œYes, Lady Eloise.” Charity shook her head as her great-aunt walked away. If being a part of the ton required her to set aside customary courtesy, she wanted no part of it. Papa had taught her to respect every person, no matter what their station.
    â€œCharity,” Joyce said softly, “you will need to heed her only until you are wed. Then you can run your household as you wish.”
    Putting her arm around her sister again, she smiled. “You make me almost anxious for marriage, but you know I cannot think of that until you are settled.”
    â€œCharity—”
    â€œPapa asked that of me.”
    â€œHe should not have!”
    â€œJoyce!”
    â€œWell, he should not have.”
    â€œGirls, are you going to loiter out there all night? Do join us.” Lady Eloise’s cane hitting the floor emphasized her command.
    Charity stared about her as she stepped on the thick gold rug. Lady Eloise had settled in a green striped chair in front of the fireplace that was carved with a design of raised vines and bows, and Leatrice chose a chair as close to Lady Eloise as possible. Leatrice was making every effort to ensure that she kept Lady Eloise’s good favor. Sitting on the beechwood sofa next to her sister, Charity smiled as she leaned her elbow on one of the bolsters by the rolled arms.
    Miss Munson was sent to her chambers. A footman brought in the tea tray. Charity listened while the other women discussed moving the last of the household to London for the Season.
    â€œBut we shall be staying until after the party at Belmore Park, shall we not?” asked Leatrice with sudden concern.
    â€œHow could we decline Lord Glynnford’s invitation?” Lady Eloise selected a cake from the tray. “Did you know, Joyce, that the marquess’s great-great-grandfather and yours were second cousins? Why, we are nearly family.”
    â€œBut conveniently distant enough to be able to marry,” Joyce whispered to Charity.
    Again Charity was amazed. She had thought Joyce was thrilled with the marquess’s attentions, that his call yesterday before they had left for Graystone Manor had been the reason for her ready laughter. Joyce had been the focus of the call, much to Lady Eloise’s delight. Charity had guessed Joyce was much taken with Lord Glynnford, for her sister had not stopped smiling since his look-in. If she had no interest in the marquess, could Joyce have developed a tendre for another man? But whom could it be? It seemed that Lord Blackburn might not be the only one hiding something.
    Oliver Blackburn took a deep breath. This rain-washed air was unlike the smoky fog over London. Without the salt that flavored the winds at sea, the air seemed tame. Damme, he hated being so far inland.
    He set his horse to careering along the road. Usually he was not a neck-or-nothing rider, but riding at top speed might clear his mind of disturbing thoughts.
    Coming upon a rise, he reined in to look down upon Graystone Manor. What a ninnyhammer he was proving to be! Only a chance comment had informed him that Miss Charity Stuart