Rules for Being a Mistress by Tamara Lejeune Page B

the amiable daughter. This being the case, he did not know how improved Miss Carteret was. Nor was he aware that her bonnet, an absurd construction with a cylindrical crown and a huge poke, was in the first stare of fashion. The mean little face surrounded by this pink monstrosity reminded him of a garden mole digging its way out of a subterranean den.
    Lady Dalrymple whipped open her large painted fan as the gentlemen approached. “Shoulders back, Millie!” she hissed. “Uncross your eyes! He is not very handsome, perhaps, but he is rich!”
    Almost in the same breath, she swept aside Mr. King’s attempt at an introduction.
    “But Sir Benedict requires no introduction! We are dear old friends. His aunt, Lady Elkins, and I have been bosom bows all our lives.”
    Benedict bowed. “You were missed at the funeral, Lady Dalrymple.”
    “Did she die?” cried Lady Dalrymple, clutching at her daughter’s hand for support. Millicent obligingly rummaged in her reticule for a handkerchief, which she applied to her mama’s dry eyes. “Oh, my poor, dear Amelia! Why did no one tell me?”
    “Elinor,” Benedict quietly corrected her.
    Lady Dalrymple was startled out of her lamentations. “I am so distraught I do not know what I am saying,” she exclaimed. “Dear Elinor, of course! I wish I had known she was dead. I should have been only too pleased to have attended the funeral. You remember Lady Elkins, Millicent. She had the house in Park Lane with the apricot saloon. So elegant!”
    “I have painted the saloon black, I’m afraid,” said Benedict.
    “Oh,” said Lady Dalrymple, batting her eyes at him. “Did you inherit?”
    “Yes. My sister and my brother both having married so well, my aunt took pity on me and left me all her estate, including the house in Park Lane.”
    “Did you hear that, Millicent?” Lady Dalrymple exclaimed. “My dear friend, Lady Elkins, has died and left this gentleman all her estate. Say hello to Sir Benedict.”
    But Millicent’s attention was riveted elsewhere. A tall, young gentleman in a blue coat had just entered the room. In addition to nice blue eyes and an estate so large that one hardly noticed his harelip, the young Earl of Ludham had a perfect halo of crimped brown hair.
    “Millicent was a great favorite of your Aunt Imogen,” Lady Dalrymple said quickly.
    “Elinor,” Benedict corrected her patiently.
    “ Dear Elinor. She quite doted on the child, but, then, Millicent is so easy to love. Was there no mention of her in your aunt’s will?”
    “None.”
    Lady Dalrymple blinked rapidly. “Curious! She did not leave my daughter any token of her affection? I am sure no one was more devoted to Lady Elkins than my Millicent. Could there have been a secret codicil or something?”
    “My aunt’s chief occupation in life was keeping her will up to date. Her wishes could not have been plainer.”
    “Such a delightful woman,” Lady Dalrymple murmured. “She was forever hinting that she meant to leave her rubies to dear Millie in her will.” She sighed breezily. “But, I daresay, her ladyship was only teasing. I expect those rubies will go to Lady Wayborn—and so they should, even though Lady Elkins promised them to Millicent.”
    “I do not like rubies,” said Millicent.
    Meanwhile, Lord Ludham stood almost in the center of the room, looking about him searchingly. His eyes fell on Millicent’s bright pink bonnet, then withdrew hastily. He spoke briefly to Mr. King, then left.
    “No, don’t go!” Millicent cried softly, the words slipping from her lips.
    “Millie! You are too modest,” protested her exasperated mother. “You know that nothing suits you better than the fiery brilliance of the Elkins’ rubies. She is too modest, Sir Benedict. So the Duchess of Auckland has the rubies now, does she? Well, well. I hope it does not trouble Her Grace to wear them, when they were promised to another. ”
    Mr. King hurried over to them. “That was Lord Ludham,” he