The Maiden At Midnight by Kate Harper

goose.
Marcus had once knocked around with young men such as this;
friendly, good-natured and without a sensible thought in their
heads. Her father had called them amiable idiots and it was true
enough. There was no harm in them, really. There was also not a
great deal of thought, but that could not be helped.
    They finished breakfast with no more than
polite conversation after that. Toast and coffee done, Isabella
glanced at the window. ‘May I ask the time, if you please?’
    Mr. Carstairs pulled a fob watch out of his
pocket. ‘It wants but five minutes to ten-thirty.’
    Isabella winced. It would
have been far better to have arrived home earlier, of course but as
she had been up until the early hours, she had slept late. Her poor
Mama would be quite frantic with worry, while Audrey and Millie
must be beside themselves. She could only pray that they had
managed to keep their anxiety away from the servants or things
could get very difficult. I cannot allow
for a hint of scandal to touch me , she
reminded herself. Any hint of scandal and she would be branded her
father’s daughter and no man would make an offer.
    ‘Could you obtain something for me, my
lord?’ She directed this at the earl.
    ‘Certainly, Miss Hathaway.’
    ‘I need a dress.’
    He blanched a little at this, but rallied
gamely. ‘Ah… certainly. I am not very au fait with female fashions,
but I shall do my best -’
    ‘Do you mean a disguise?’ Mr. Carstairs
demanded, cutting through the babble.
    ‘I do. A maid’s dress and cloak would be
perfect. If they have proper maids here,’ she looked at the shabby
room doubtfully, ‘otherwise I suppose any plain dress would do. As
long as it does not belong to the Quality.’
    ‘You intend to dress as a servant to escape
detection?’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘In that case, I will find you a cloak with
a hood. Your face is a little too noticeable.’
    It was, she supposed, a compliment but of a
very backward nature. Clearly, Mr. Carstairs did not think very
much of her. ‘A cloak with a hood would be perfect.’
    The gentleman nodded curtly. Turning on his
heel, he left the room. The earl watched his departure with relief.
‘Harry will manage,’ he told Isabella comfortably, ‘he always does.
He’s the best at discovering ways to fix things. Usually caused by
my foolishness, he added with a grimace, ‘I am afraid I am not the
most sensible of fellows.’
    Isabella looked at the earl and thought that
his friend Harry might have a busy time of it. Despite the absurd
nature of her predicament, she found that she was having trouble
remaining angry at his lordship. He was like a hopeful dog,
uncertain if she would kick him or pat him. Isabella was very fond
of dogs. ‘Perhaps you’re a late developer, in the sensible
area.’
    ‘Very late, it seems. Of course, half my
family was quite mad, so I suppose I cannot hope for much. They’re
all dead now, more or less. A few cranky cousins and a dreadful
fright of an aunt, but I’m the last of them, more or less.’
    ‘How very unfortunate,’ she said
sympathetically, ‘A mad family can be a trial. I suppose you can’t
expect too much of yourself, under the circumstances.’
    ‘Exactly.’ The earl was clearly pleased that
she comprehended the situation so well.
    ‘I myself am cursed with a too ready tongue.
In its own way, it has proved as much as a burden as your
unbalanced relatives must have been. It is very inconvenient for a
young female in need of good social standing.’
    ‘I imagine it must be,’ he agreed with
feeling, ‘I’m always having to watch what I say myself.’
    They eyed each other with approval, pleased
by the unexpected understanding of each other’s problems.
    ‘I am most awfully sorry that I took you by
mistake,’ the earl told her earnestly. ‘And of course, if you want
me to marry you then I would be delighted.’
    It was a very odd proposal
of marriage. Somehow, Isabella had always believed her first one
would be rather