to survive.
“Which one is it?” Claire asked.
“The big brick house just over there. Do you see those two stone lions on the porch? That is the residence of the earl of Brant.”
Claire studied the elegant town house, larger than any other on the block, and a hopeful smile blossomed on her face.
“Perhaps Lord Brant will be handsome and kind as well as rich,” she said dreamily. “And you shall marry him and both of us will be saved.”
Tory flashed her an indulgent smile. “For now, let us simply hope the man is in need of a servant or two and willing to take us in.”
But again they were turned away, this time by a short, bald-headed butler with thick shoulders and beady little eyes.
Claire was crying by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, which was a rare thing, indeed, and enough to make Tory want to cry along with her. Funny thing was, if Tory cried, her nose got all red and her lips wobbled. But with Claire, it just made her eyes look bigger and bluer and her cheeks bloomed with roses.
Tory grabbed her reticule and began trying to dig out a handkerchief for Claire when one magically appeared in front of her face. Her sister accepted it gratefully. Dabbing it against her eyes, she turned her sweet, angelic smile upon the man who had provided it.
“Thank you ever so much.”
The man returned the smile as Tory could have guessed he would. “Cordell Easton, earl of Brant, at your service, dear lady. And you would be…?”
He was looking at Claire the way men had since she was twelve years old. Tory didn’t think he realized there was anyone else there but Claire.
“I am Miss Claire Temple and this is my sister, Victoria.” Tory silently thanked God that Claire had remembered to use their mother’s maiden name, and ignored her sister’s disregard of the proper rules of introduction. The man was, after all, the earl, and they were desperately in need of his employment.
Brant smiled at Claire but had to force himself to look in Tory’s direction. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Lord Brant,” Tory said, hoping her stomach wouldn’t choose that particular moment to growl. Just as Claire had imagined, he was tall and exceedingly handsome, though his hair was dark brown and not blond, and his features were harder than one of Claire’s imaginary princes would have been.
His shoulders were exceptionally wide, with no padding that she could discern, while his build was solid and athletic. All in all, he was a very impressive man, and the way he was looking at Claire made a knot of worry ball in the pit of Tory’s stomach.
Lord Brant continued to gaze at Claire as if Tory had disappeared. “I saw you leaving my door,” he said. “I hope you weren’t crying over something my butler might have said. Timmons can be a bit of a muttonhead at times.”
Tory answered while Claire continued to smile. “Your butler informed us there were no positions available. That is the reason we are here. We are in search of work, my lord.”
For a moment, he actually looked at Tory, his gaze running over her slim figure and upswept brown hair, sizing her up in a way that sent spots of color into her cheeks.
“What sort of work are you talking about?”
There was something in his eyes…something she couldn’t quite read. “Any sort of position you might need to have filled. Chambermaid, kitchen maid, anything that pays a respectable wage for a respectable day’s work.”
“My sister wishes to become a governess,” Claire said brightly, “but you don’t have any children.”
His gaze returned to Claire. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Anything would do,” Tory said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Recently, we have come upon rather unfortunate circumstances.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You have no family, no one who might be of assistance?”
“I’m afraid not. That is the reason we’re looking for work. We were hoping that perhaps you might have something available.”
For the first time, the earl seemed to understand exactly what they were about. He gazed at Claire and his mouth curved up. Tory thought that perhaps that smile did to women what Claire’s smile did to men.
Only Claire’s was completely guileless, while the earl of Brant’s definitely held a calculating twist.
“As a matter of fact, we are in need of help. Timmons just hasn’t yet been informed. Why don’t you both come with me?” He was offering Claire his arm, which didn’t bode well as far as Tory was concerned.
She knew the effect her sister had on men—not that Claire was even remotely aware of it. It was the reason they found themselves in such dire straights in the first place.
God’s breath—the girl was an angel. Cord had never seen skin so fair or eyes so blue. She was slender, yet he could see the swell of her breasts, outlined beneath her slightly frayed apricot gown, and they looked utterly delectable. He had been searching for a new bit of muslin. He hadn’t expected a divine creature like this to appear at his front door.
Cord paused inside the entry, the sisters gazing up at him from where they stood beneath the crystal chandelier. A few feet away, Timmons cast him a look of disbelief. Cord turned to Claire, but she had wandered over to a vase filled with roses and appeared to be enthralled with a single pink bud.
The other sister, he saw, was eyeing him with what could only be called suspicion. He gave her a friendly, innocent smile, all the while calculating how long it would take him to lure the blond beauty into his bed.
“So, my lord, you were telling me about the position you have available.”
He focused his attention on the dark-haired sister…what was her name? Velma or Valerie or…? Victoria—yes, that was it.
“As I was saying, we are definitely in need of help.” He looked her over. She was shorter than Claire, but not too short, and not nearly so…fragile. That was the word for Claire. This one, Victoria, looked capable, at least in his estimation, and she was obviously protective of her sister.
“My housekeeper, Mrs. Mills, gave notice nearly two weeks ago. She’ll be leaving in a few more days and I have yet to find a suitable replacement.” Victoria Temple was far too young for the position and undoubtedly she knew it. But he didn’t give a damn and he didn’t think she would, either. “Perhaps you would be interested in the job.”
He didn’t miss the staggering relief that washed over her face. It gave him an odd sort of pang.
“Yes, my lord, I would most assuredly be interested. I’ve done similar work before. I believe I could handle the job very well.”
She was attractive, he saw as he hadn’t before. Not the raving beauty her sister was, but her features were refined, her dark eyebrows winged over a pair of lively green eyes, her nose straight and her chin firm. A stubborn little chin, he thought with a hint of amusement.
“What about
