and turned to go up the stairs to her room. ‘If I am not busy with something more important.’
Hope sighed. It was better than a flat refusal. Knowing Charity, by Wednesday there would be some excuse that would prevent her from coming out with them. But it did not matter. Just as her sister had suggested, Hope would go and dance until her feet ached. She would be as charming as she possibly could and see to it that every gentleman in London had met and been dazzled by Miss Strickland.
There was no point in being a wallflower. The new Earl of Comstock could have his pick of any girl in England. He would not look twice at a girl who was not courted by others.
She turned back to the mirror, and flashed a smile that would blind a duke at twenty paces. Then, the curtsy. ‘Good evening, my lord.’ This time, she dipped deeper and felt an embarrassing tremble in her front knee. She was nearly one and twenty, but hardly infirm. She could do better. She must do better.
She tried again. ‘Good evening, my lord.’
‘I should think good morning would be more appropriate. It is not yet eleven.’
She stumbled at the sound of a voice behind her and raised her eyes to see the reflection of the stranger who had entered the room as she practised.
It was he.
It had to be. Who else but the Earl of Comstock would be wandering around the house unintroduced, as if he owned it? In a sense, he did.
‘And I have no title.’
‘As of yet,’ she said. There was no longer a need to practise her smile. When she looked at him, it came naturally. Who would not be happy in the presence of such a handsome man? Though she had never been one to dote on the male form, his was perfectly proportioned, neither too tall nor too short, with slim hips and broad shoulders on which rested the head of a Roman God. His blond hair was cut à la Brutus, curling faintly at the fringe that framed a noble brow, unmarked by signs of worry. His grey eyes were intelligent, his smile sympathetic.
Praise God, she had been delivered just the man she’d prayed would come: young, handsome and, judging by the twinkle that shone in those beautiful eyes as he looked at her, single. But not for long, if she had her way.
He tilted his head. ‘You are correct. I have no title, as of yet. Nor am I likely to get one. But they are sometimes awarded to men whose service merits them and I am not yet thirty. With time and effort, anything is possible, Miss Strickland.’
She steadied herself from the shock and turned to face him with as much grace as possible, struggling to maintain the expression she’d been practising in the mirror. ‘Then you are not my cousin from America?’
‘The future Earl of Comstock?’ His smile softened. ‘Unfortunately, no.’ He bowed from the waist. ‘Gregory Drake, at your service, Miss Strickland. I was told you’d be expecting me.’
She could feel her smile faltering and struggled against the impolite response, who?
More importantly, how? She glanced to the front door which had not opened to admit anyone, much less this interloper. Then, she made an effort to compose herself. ‘I fear you were incorrectly informed. I was not told there would be a guest this morning. You have caught me unprepared.’
He followed her eyes, read the meaning and gave a deferential dip of his head. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Strickland. I was retained by your brother-in-law to help with certain difficulties your family is experiencing. Since the matter is one that requires discretion, I entered through the rear to avoid calling attention.’
‘The tradesman’s entrance.’ Of course he had. If Mr Leggett had hired him, why should he not begin there?
He nodded, solemnly.
A torrent of unladylike words filled her mind about trumped-up nobodies with delusions of a grand future who had the gall to tease her with them. And worse yet, who had the nerve to look like the answer to a maiden’s prayers. He had no right to be so handsome, yet so inappropriate.
Then, the rant changed to encompass her sister’s husband, who had hired this...this...person. She ended with a scold for Grandmama, who probably knew the whole story and had neglected to tell her any of it, just as she had with the difficulties surrounding an audit. The Dowager probably thought it amusing to throw the two of them together so Hope might make a fool of herself.
When she was sure that her actual words would leave her mouth with a minimum of bile, she said, ‘So Mr Leggett has sent you to save us from ourselves.’
Her control was not perfect. She still sounded ungrateful, but she had a right to be angry. She had been behaving like an idiot when he’d entered. It likely confirmed what he already thought of the family: that they were a houseful of silly women, incapable of caring for themselves.
Of course, that was what she often thought, when faced with the latest exploit of her sister or her grandmother. She did not deny that they had problems, but how could a stranger possibly understand them the way she did?
She forced another smile. It was not the warm one she was saving for the Earl. The one she gave to Mr Drake was sufficient for solicitors and shopkeepers. ‘How much has Mr Leggett told you about our difficulty?’
‘Everything, I suspect. You seek the return of certain items before an impending inventory.’ If he thought her rude, he did not show it. His manner reflected hers. He was professionally pleasant, but revealed no trace of his true thoughts or feelings.
So, he suspected he knew everything. That proved how little he actually knew. Even Mr Leggett did not know the worst of it for Hope had not wished to ruin Faith’s honeymoon with what she had recently discovered. But Mr Drake should at least understand that none of it was Hope’s fault. To prove her lack of culpability, she said aloud the words that had been echoing in her mind since she had learned the extent of their troubles. ‘Grandmama should not have sold things that did not belong to her. Nor should she have kept our financial difficulties a secret for so long.’
He offered another sympathetic nod. ‘But what could you have done, had you known?’
Very little. Faith had been the one in charge of the family budget and her decisions had seemed sensible enough. Economies had been taken in diet and dress. Rooms had been shut and staff had been released. How much less would they have had without Grandmama’s judicious thefts refilling the accounts?
The fact that there had been no other solution did not make her feel any better, now that reckoning had arrived. ‘The past does not matter. It is the future that I am worried about. There will be a scandal, if the truth comes out.’
‘I am here to see that it never does,’ he said. ‘I have helped more than a few families with similar problems. Taking desperate measures when there is a shortage of funds is not at all unusual.’
‘I assume Mr Leggett means to buy back the lost items?’ It was a generous plan from a man who had no idea the depth of the problem.
‘He said you had a list.’
‘After a fashion,’ she said, giving nothing away. By the look on Mr Drake’s face, he expected her to turn over the details of her family’s darkest secrets without as much as a by your leave. She had no reason to trust this stranger who appeared out of nowhere with far too much information and no introduction, verbal or written.
