Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (best books for 20 year olds TXT) 📕

claim to be rejuvenated. She had not even dressed or drunk her chocolate before her mother knocked at her door.

‘I really think tomorrow might be preferable? Do not you?’ her mother said, as soon as she had entered the bedchamber.

‘That rather depends. What for?’ Millie said warily.

‘Why, for Mr Edmunds’s proposal, of course. He asked me if he might propose to you, which is only right and proper. And, of course, I said “yes”. However, he is under the impression that you are ill so I think another day to recuperate would be wise. You look remarkably peaky which goes well enough with the subterfuge, except I do not know how we will explain that bruise.’

‘Perhaps I walked into a door in my delirium.’

‘Indeed,’ her mother agreed, crossing the room and pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘But that does make you sound rather clumsy. And we do not want to mention delirium. You do not want him to think that any form of madness runs in our family or that we have a weakness for delirium.’

‘Heaven forbid. We come from a long line of gamblers, but let us draw the line at illness or poor co-ordination.’ Millie was tempted to add that Mrs Lansdowne’s refusal to even rise from her bed for weeks after her son’s death might also make someone question the family’s stability, but bit her tongue.

‘Millie,’ her mother said, sitting rather heavily on the chair opposite. ‘How can you speak about your father and brother in such a way? Dear Tom would have grown out of it eventually.’

‘Perhaps,’ Millie agreed doubtfully. Millie had adored her brother, but she was uncertain if the passing years would have brought any maturity.

‘Anyway, marrying dear Mr Edmunds is for the best.’ Her mother nodded emphatically to add credence to the statement.

‘Very likely,’ Millie agreed. ‘But are we going to ignore the other issue?’

‘The other issue?’ her mother asked vaguely.

‘Do not prevaricate. I have experience with amnesia and you do not have it. Lil cannot marry Lord Harwood.’

Her mother frowned, standing and pacing nervously about the chamber. ‘He will put me in debtors’ prison. He said so. And he was polite when he visited.’

‘Threatening to put you in debtors’ prison is hardly polite.’

‘I know he doesn’t have a reputation as a pleasant man.’

‘He is a middle-aged cad with a fondness for dairy maids and more illegitimate children than a dog has fleas.’

‘Millie, I do not know where you picked up such expressions,’ Mrs Lansdowne said. ‘They are quite dreadful.’

‘My expressions are the least of our worries. And Lord Harwood is dreadful. He wants to acquire Lil for her beauty. I think her very lack of sophistication appeals to him. He will dress her up like his own private doll. Besides, I question whether he is even offering her legitimate marriage. And did you properly examine the note? Are we certain that it is not a forgery?’

‘I am not a detective. However, I am sure the offer of marriage is legitimate. He is unmarried and wants a legitimate heir, I hear.’

‘That is a distasteful thought. Anyway, that doesn’t even matter. He would hurt Lil. You know he would.’

‘I know. I know.’ Her mother paced again. ‘I just do not know how I will survive in prison.’

‘Better than Lil would with Harwood. We still do not know if the note is authentic, so let us not get ahead of ourselves. I will ensure a solicitor looks at it. Rest assured, I will marry Mr Edmunds and do what is necessary to fix this. For now, do not tell Lil about any of this. I do not want to worry her.’

Sam had lain wide awake for most of the night, only to fall into a deep slumber close to dawn. He woke mid-morning with a thudding headache, made worse by the bright light as Banks drew the curtains.

‘I presume Mrs Ludlow senior is still in residence?’ he asked his valet somewhat glumly.

‘Indeed, sir. However, she has not risen yet.’

‘One good thing, I suppose. Best get up before she emerges. Order the carriage for about an hour from now,’ he instructed.

Sam had managed to eat and dress while still avoiding the elder Mrs Ludlow and found himself driving towards Sir Anthony’s house with a certain elation, much as a fugitive might.

The gentleman was again in his study. He smiled pleasantly, still peering from behind gold-rimmed spectacles, his fingers pressed together as though contemplating a metaphysical dilemma, though it was more likely he was in deep contemplation about lunch.

‘Very nice to see you,’ he said, although Sam rather thought Sir Anthony would likely say that to the devil himself, a lapse of manners being worse than any other offence.

Sam nodded. ‘And you. Might it be possible to see my sister now?’

‘Absolutely. Her maid stated that she slept well and is relieved that you have returned. I believe she is in the breakfast room at present.’

Sir Anthony rang a bell and Sam was taken into a small, pleasant parlour. A fire warmed the room and he saw his sister seated, a small bassinet at her feet.

‘Frances, thank goodness.’ He hurried to her, taking her hand in his own, again struck by her gaunt expression and the thinness of her hand.

‘Sam, I was so...so relieved when I heard you were back.’ Her voice trembled, tears already visible.

‘Should I bring tea, ma’am?’ the butler asked.

‘Tea?’ Frances looked confused, as though the familiar beverage was foreign to her.

‘No tea,’ Sam said sharply and the man bowed, taking his leave.

He had thought his sister changed when he had arrived from London, but he had not fully appreciated her weight loss or pallor. Everything about her now seemed subdued, as though bereft of a life force. Dark shadows circled her eyes and her skin was pale to the point of translucence. Her gaze moved jerkily around the room, as if for ever anticipating an enemy just outside the scope of her vision.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Do you know where Jason