A Christmas Kiss by Elizabeth; Mansfield

wearisome, for, as Mr. Covington was fond of relating, his sister, the fashionable Lady Lofting, had often given dinners lasting five hours. Dinner turned out to be a very merry meal, for Miss Trevelyan, finding herself seated at his lordship’s left hand, soon recovered her good spirits and kept Philip’s attention with a constant flow of lively conversation. Jamie deftly placed himself at the side of the pretty Marianne and, all through the meal, teased her about her new, grown-up appearance. Marianne fully enjoyed his attentions, giggling and blushing prettily and responding to his compliments with a darting glance from under trembling lashes or a whispered, “Oh, do you really think so?”
    Since Philip was only occasionally permitted to turn away from Miss Trevelyan to converse with Evalyn, seated on his right, Evalyn found an opportunity to discuss with her other dinner partner, Lord Reginald, the problem of her abigail. “Forgive me for troubling you about the matter,” she said to him quietly, “but Nancy and I were wondering about the arrangements for her return.”
    â€œNancy? Nancy? I don’t quite …?” Reggie mumbled, perplexed.
    â€œThe innkeeper’s niece. The girl you hired to be my abigail. You only engaged her for the trip, you know, and she is expecting to return to the inn tomorrow.”
    â€œGood heaventh, I’d forgotten all about her!” Reggie exclaimed.
    â€œI beg your pardon,” Lord Gyllford interjected, leaning toward her, “but I couldn’t help overhearing what you just said. You are speaking of your abigail, are you not? Has she given satisfactory service?”
    Evalyn looked at Lord Gyllford in surprise. “Why, yes, of course. She is a delightful girl, but—”
    â€œThen you should certainly keep her, my dear. Unless she is particularly needed at home just now. Is that the case?”
    â€œNo, I don’t think she is needed at the inn … that is, I’m sure she could be spared … but it would be impossible for me to keep her with me, my lord.”
    Lord Gyllford smiled. “You are quite a decided young woman, Miss Pennington. Tell me, why would it be so impossible?”
    â€œWell, I … you see, Lord Reginald has been paying her wages, and I certainly couldn’t ask him—”
    â€œNo, you certainly could not. Although I fail to understand why Lord Reginald had been required to do so.”
    â€œNot required, my lord,” Reggie put in. “My privilege, I athure you! Jamie’th pocketh were a bit to let, you thee—”
    â€œJamie’s pockets are always to let, it seems,” Lord Gyllford said drily. “I thank you, Reggie, and I will deem it my privilege if you will permit me to take the responsibility of the abigail off your hands. With your permission, I shall add her to our household staff.”
    â€œDelighted,” Reggie agreed promptly.
    â€œBut sir, I cannot permit you to go to such expense on my behalf!” Evalyn objected vehemently.
    â€œMiss Pennington,” Lord Gyllford said with mock severity, “as much as I admire decided young ladies, I cannot permit them to dictate to me the composition of my household staff. So we’ll have no more discussion on this head, if you please.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo buts. You are not eating, Miss Pennington. You must try a little of this ragout of veal and onions. Our cook has a way with ragouts. I think you will find it quite French.”
    But Evalyn, although overwhelmed with gratitude at the unexpected kindness she was meeting at every turn, felt obliged to voice her objections. She could not accept such generosity. What business had a governess with an abigail? She drew a deep breath and looked up at her host, prepared to do battle. He was looking down at her, the expression on his face daring her to contradict him. She hesitated, but it was not his facial expression