looked as if they’d swallowed soap.
Mr. Ross sat on a wrought-iron chair between the earl and Evelyn. Evelyn, a younger, more energeticreplica of the earl, perched stiffly, sipping his tea and saying as little as possible to the new guest. Prudence wasn’t so reticent.
“Mr. Ross, I don’t believe I know your people. Are they from Scotland?”
Georgiana darted a quick glance from Prudence to Ross. The question was deliberate. Prudence already knew Mr. Ross’s background.
Ross took a cup and saucer from Lady Prudence, stirred his tea calmly, then looked directly into his hostess’s bean-colored eyes. “As Threshfield must have told you, Lady Prudence, I have no people. I was born in St. Giles in one room of a filthy tenement. Having made my fortune, I am engaged in improving myself and seeing the world.”
In disbelief Georgiana watched Ross subject Prudence to a coy, wide-eyed regard that reduced the woman to a simpering, giggling fluster. One moment Prudence was the picture of an outraged hostess, the next she was cow-eyed and red in the face.
The earl sucked tea noisily and said, “Young Nick here used to be a thief.” He cackled at the squawk this produced from Prudence. “What’s that word you used for ‘thief,’ Nick?”
“Prig, sir. And as a youth I practiced the kinchin lay, which is robbing children sent on errands to various merchants. I had a snug little business.”
Evelyn choked. His cup and saucer rattled, and Nick caught them before they fell. He slapped Evelyn on the back while the earl chortled. Georgiana hadn’t moved, for she was beginning to feel a twinge of conscience. Whatever his transgressions, Mr. Ross must have had a terrible childhood. She had never had to steal from children to survive. She vowed that inher quarrel with him she wouldn’t throw that in his face.
In her forbidden forays into newspaper reading, she’d discovered the squalor in which so many lived in neighborhoods near her own luxurious home. After that she no longer ignored the women in the Strand who sold violets, the children who offered to carry her packages. Father had been livid when he’d discovered her giving away her small allowance for things like wilted bouquets. However, Mr. Ross was a grown man. There was no excuse for his continued indelicacy. Indelicacy. Did she indeed use too many
I
-words? She hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.
“Really, Uncle,” Evelyn was sputtering. “To entertain someone in trade is one thing, but to countenance the presence of a criminal. And one who behaves in such—such a debasing manner to your betrothed.”
The earl’s watery blue eyes sparkled, and he leered at Evelyn. “Can’t say I’ve noticed your worrying about Georgiana lately. I’d think you’d be glad to have a handsome young man around who might catch her eye and cut me out.”
“What!” Georgiana exclaimed, nearly spilling tea down the front of her gown. Prudence froze with her teacup halfway to her lips. Nick threw back his head and laughed while Evelyn made fists and bit the inside of his cheek.
“Really, Uncle, you’re most improper,” Prudence said as she set down her cup and fussed with the teapot while ogling Mr. Ross.
Georgiana closed her opened mouth. She happened to look at Evelyn, who was staring at her with apeculiar expression. He hadn’t even noticed his wife’s ambivalent reaction to Nick Ross. She gave him her most stately and chilling regard. The look seemed only to intrigue Evelyn. His gaze seemed to grow unfocused for a moment, and his lips curled into a most disgusting, slack-lipped smile. She was certain he was remembering their encounter in the drawing room. His hands had wandered to the top of her corset before she could plant her fist in his stomach.
Turning her head sharply, she encountered the quizzical scrutiny of Mr. Nicholas Ross. No doubt he thought the worst if he’d been watching that exchange with Evelyn. Jutting out her chin, Georgiana
Mr. Ross sat on a wrought-iron chair between the earl and Evelyn. Evelyn, a younger, more energeticreplica of the earl, perched stiffly, sipping his tea and saying as little as possible to the new guest. Prudence wasn’t so reticent.
“Mr. Ross, I don’t believe I know your people. Are they from Scotland?”
Georgiana darted a quick glance from Prudence to Ross. The question was deliberate. Prudence already knew Mr. Ross’s background.
Ross took a cup and saucer from Lady Prudence, stirred his tea calmly, then looked directly into his hostess’s bean-colored eyes. “As Threshfield must have told you, Lady Prudence, I have no people. I was born in St. Giles in one room of a filthy tenement. Having made my fortune, I am engaged in improving myself and seeing the world.”
In disbelief Georgiana watched Ross subject Prudence to a coy, wide-eyed regard that reduced the woman to a simpering, giggling fluster. One moment Prudence was the picture of an outraged hostess, the next she was cow-eyed and red in the face.
The earl sucked tea noisily and said, “Young Nick here used to be a thief.” He cackled at the squawk this produced from Prudence. “What’s that word you used for ‘thief,’ Nick?”
“Prig, sir. And as a youth I practiced the kinchin lay, which is robbing children sent on errands to various merchants. I had a snug little business.”
Evelyn choked. His cup and saucer rattled, and Nick caught them before they fell. He slapped Evelyn on the back while the earl chortled. Georgiana hadn’t moved, for she was beginning to feel a twinge of conscience. Whatever his transgressions, Mr. Ross must have had a terrible childhood. She had never had to steal from children to survive. She vowed that inher quarrel with him she wouldn’t throw that in his face.
In her forbidden forays into newspaper reading, she’d discovered the squalor in which so many lived in neighborhoods near her own luxurious home. After that she no longer ignored the women in the Strand who sold violets, the children who offered to carry her packages. Father had been livid when he’d discovered her giving away her small allowance for things like wilted bouquets. However, Mr. Ross was a grown man. There was no excuse for his continued indelicacy. Indelicacy. Did she indeed use too many
I
-words? She hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.
“Really, Uncle,” Evelyn was sputtering. “To entertain someone in trade is one thing, but to countenance the presence of a criminal. And one who behaves in such—such a debasing manner to your betrothed.”
The earl’s watery blue eyes sparkled, and he leered at Evelyn. “Can’t say I’ve noticed your worrying about Georgiana lately. I’d think you’d be glad to have a handsome young man around who might catch her eye and cut me out.”
“What!” Georgiana exclaimed, nearly spilling tea down the front of her gown. Prudence froze with her teacup halfway to her lips. Nick threw back his head and laughed while Evelyn made fists and bit the inside of his cheek.
“Really, Uncle, you’re most improper,” Prudence said as she set down her cup and fussed with the teapot while ogling Mr. Ross.
Georgiana closed her opened mouth. She happened to look at Evelyn, who was staring at her with apeculiar expression. He hadn’t even noticed his wife’s ambivalent reaction to Nick Ross. She gave him her most stately and chilling regard. The look seemed only to intrigue Evelyn. His gaze seemed to grow unfocused for a moment, and his lips curled into a most disgusting, slack-lipped smile. She was certain he was remembering their encounter in the drawing room. His hands had wandered to the top of her corset before she could plant her fist in his stomach.
Turning her head sharply, she encountered the quizzical scrutiny of Mr. Nicholas Ross. No doubt he thought the worst if he’d been watching that exchange with Evelyn. Jutting out her chin, Georgiana
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