[Harlequin] - Marie Louise Hall - Major's Muslin (txt), Ksiazki, txt, ebook, pdf

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major's muslinbymarie louise hallMarie-Louise Hall 'studied history at the University of London, whereshe met her husband. Now living in rural Aberdeenshire, her ambitionsince marriage has been to find time to write. Domesticallyincompetent, she was thrilled when her husband took over the houseworkso that she could write. She also works for her husband's oil industryconsultancy, looks after her young son, three cats, and threedelinquent donkeys.MAJOR'SMUSLINRecent titles by the same author:SWEET TREASONTHE CAPTAIN'S ANGELDID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it wasreported unsold and destroyed by a retailer. Neither the Author northe publisher has received any payment for this book.All the characters in this book have no existence outside theimagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyonebearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspiredby any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidentsare bure invention.All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or inpart in any form. This edition is published by arrangement withHarlequin Enterprises H B. V. The text 'of this publication or any partthereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by anymeans, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, ~ecording,storage in a? information retrieval system, of otherwise, without thewritten permission of the publisher.This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way oftrade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulatedwithout the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding orcover other than that in which it is published and without a similarcon~lition including this condition being imposed on the subsequentpurchaser.MILLS & BOON and MILLS & BOON with the Rose Device are registeredtrademarks of the publisher.First published in Great Britain 1996Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 ISRISBN 0 263 80(X)8 3Set in 10 on 12 pt Linotron TimesPrinted and bound in Great Britain by BPC Paperbacks Limited,AylesburyCHAPTER ONELALLIE leant on the sill of the small casement window in her attic roomand looked out over the sea of grey slate roofs shimmering in the heat,to the distant dome Of St. Paul's;She sighed, wishing for the bright blustery moors and the cool clearburns of Scotland where she had spent her childhood, wishing she wasanywhere but here in London on this stifling late May morning of1810.Amid the clatter of hooves and rumble of iron-rimmed wheels and the.cries of the street-sellers and hawkers at the nearby market she heardthe nearest church clock strike the hour and knew she could not put offher departure any longer.Dragging in a breath of the humid air, she turned away from the windowand picked up her faded blue silk shawl and straw bonnet and the briefletter from Lady Carteret, acknowledging her application for the postof governess and inviting her to attend for an interview. It wasstupid to feel so sickly nervous. about the prospect of going to thisparticular house, she iold herself sternly. It was nQt as if she hadever met Alex's sister and was likely to be recognised, And there wasno danger of Alex being there.Alex was dead, lying in some Spanish grave. She had known that formore than a month and yet she still could not really believe it, nomore than she had been able to when she had opened a purchase fromthemarket that had been wrapped in a tattered copy of the gazette and hisname had leapt out at her from among the death notices.Her grey eyes darkened, as memories she had tried so hard to bury cametumbling back into her mired. Alex, riding down her godmother's driveat the head of his troop of Hussars, his blue and silver uniformglistening in the sunshine. Alex, laughing, his dark head thrown backas he had spun her around the ballroom until she had been giddy. Alexwith his blue, blue eyes that had darkened to the colou~ of cornflowerswhen he bent his head to kiss her. Alex, who had left her Her fingersclenched upon the brim of her bonnet. She would not cpy. She had donewith crying for him five years ago! Angry with herself she crammed herbonnet upon her head and tied up the strings so tight they pinched.Then, snatching up her reticule from the battered blanket box whichserved as wardrobe and table in the tiny attic room, she stuffed LadyCarteret's letter into it and opened the door. For a moment she stoodmotionless, listening to the noises in the house below. She could hearher landlady's raucous laughter drifting up. from the kitchen. Good.Mrs. Crouch had company and a jug. of gin by the sound of it, shethought, as she quietly shut the door of her room and began to movequietly down the uncarpeted stairs, skipping the treads that creaked.Her rent was more than a week overdue, and she had no desire to discussthe matter with Mrs. Crouch at this particular moment.She tiptoed through the dark and dingy hall, and slipped out of thedost into the blinding sunshine and hot, humid air, which engulfed herlike the blast from a furnace. Nevertheless, she walked briskly, notslowing until she was around the corner and out of sight of herlodgings.Only then did she stop and untie the ribbons upon her bonnet and lether shawl slip off her shoulders to her elbows. The'heat wasfurnace-like, almost tangible, she could even feel it burning up fromthe paving stones through the paper-thin soles of her shoes. And therewere already wisps of her hair clinging to her forehead. She sighed.At least her over washed and tissue-thin muslin had one advantage leftit, she thought wryly as she began the long walk to Mayfair. It wascool.Please, please, let me get this position, she prayed silently, a littlewhile later, to any deity who might be listening as she stood in thewonderfully cool shade of the trees that formed the centrepiece of thesquare of elegant white houses and retied the strings of her bonnet andstraightened her shawl. Please In the six months since her father'sdeath she had applied for post after post as governess or companion andbeen turned down more times than she could count. With a surfeit ofrespectable ladies and their daughters, left without a breadwinner bythe war against Bonaparte, there was no shortage of governesses orcompanions.She touched her fingers to her reticule, feeling for the carefullyforged references and character. She hated to deceive anyone, but sheno longer had the luxury of choice. She had to get this position. Itwas that or starve or worse--her mouth thinned and she felt thechurning sense of revulsion and fear that she had had since the momentMathias Robson had shownher the debt against her that he had purchased and had suggestedexactly how she might pay it. Lifting her chin, she exhaled slowly andtouched the references again. Surely they were good enough to persuadeAlexander Haldane's sister to give her a trial.It was a hope which was already dying an hour or so later, as the lastchord of the sonatina she had played. ebbed away into a silence brokenonly by the first flu tries of rain against the windows of LadyCarteret's drawing-room as the oppressive heat gave way to athunderstorm. She replaced the lid of the pianoforte and then foldedher shaking hands in her lap. She had tried so hard to impress, butfelt she had played badly--a fear which turned to certainty as thesilence stretched2 It was several seconds before she had the courage tolook up and meet the cool, green gaze of the woman seated upon thesofa."I am a little out of practice, the pianoforte in my rooms is in needof repair." She dropped her eyes as she uttered the lie--she doubtedthere had ever been such a luxury as a pianoforte in Mrs. Crouch'slodging house."Yes," Lady Carteret said coolly. : "But there is scarce need forapology, you play Mozart a deal better without ~ practice than I everdid with it, Miss Smith." ,"I am sure that cannot be true." Lallie's hands. clenched in her lapas she made the polite protest. Please let her have imagined thatfaint ironical empha~ sis upon her name, she prayed silently. IfIsabelle Carteret knew she was lying, lying about every things thenthere was no hope.Lady Carteret shook her auburn head and gave.9'half-laugh. "I am afraid it is, I always preferred to hunt and fishwith my brothers, and was far too lazy to acquire many of theaccomplishments. Not that I can say I have ever really felt the lackof them," she added unashamedly.No, thought Lallie wry}y as she glanced at Isabelle Carteret'sheart-shaped face, taking in the perfect features and blemish lesscreamy complexion, I don't suppose you have. Isabelle Carteret did notlook as if she had ever had to work at anything in her life, except therepelling of the Prince of Wales's 'advances, if what Alex had told heronce was correct."You, however, would seem to have them all," the redhead said drily, asshe glanced down at the letters of recommendation lying upon her lap.A faint flush of colour- rose in Lallie's face. For all her indolence,there was a keen intelligence in the redhead's gaze. Her heart sank,Isabelle Carteret had not been fooled by her invented employmenthistory or her forged references for a moment."Come--sit down here, Miss Smith." There was the faintest hint' ofamusement in the older woman's voice as she gestured to awell-cushioned chair beside the fire. "You are beginning to lookuncomfortable there.""Th... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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