The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,18

entering the foyer, however, she saw her first familiar face. Dodger, her family’s old butler, moved on decrepit legs to greet her. A wide smile revealed his toothless gums. “Lady Elizabeth! I never! Oh, but your parents aren’t expecting you, are they? I heard them talk just this morning of making their way to Bath.”

She reached for Dodger’s white-gloved hands. They were cold, even through his gloves, and she curled her warm palms around his fingers. He’d been like a grandfather to her when she was a child, though she was sure her parents didn’t know of the many evenings she’d spent wedged between Dodger and Mrs. Elf, the housekeeper, in their private sitting room below stairs. “Th-they aren’t here?” she asked of her parents.

“They are; it’s just that we’ve been waiting for the order to pack them off. I’m sure they’ll stay now that you’re here. Oh, dear, dear girl. You have no idea how Prudence and I have worried about you.” His toothless grin didn’t falter. If anything, his happiness at seeing her was enough to raise her hope.

Perhaps this time, it was true. She was loved.

His rheumy eyes searched her face as though he couldn’t believe he was seeing her. “Just wait until Prudence sees you. What a pretty lady you’ve become.” He squeezed her hands.

Gratitude welled inside her, but she wouldn’t cry. Not before she’d heard those words from her own father.

She wasn’t foolish enough to think she would.

Footfalls sounded behind Elizabeth. Dodger released her hands and collected himself into a more regal posture. Just as he turned to greet Mrs. Dalton climbing the steps with Oliver in her arms, the baby let out a soft coo. Dodger’s amazement upon seeing him turned Elizabeth’s insides to warm pudding.

If he’d been happy to see her, he was ecstatic to greet her son. “Oh, my. Oh, my. A little one!” He reached for Oliver before noticeably struggling to collect himself again. “Benson, find Mrs. Elf and inform her that the nursery must be prepared immediately. Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, my girl,” he said, using the name he and the housekeeper had used back when Elizabeth was barely out of leading strings, herself. “Mrs. Elf will be beside herself with excitement.”

The next hour was a blur as Dodger barked orders for the lodging of herself, Oliver, Mrs. Dalton, and the three maids, four footmen and two drivers who’d accompanied her to Shropshire. Not a word was said of her parents. Elizabeth startled each time a door opened or footsteps sounded in the hall. Surely, they must have been informed of her arrival by now.

At last, after she’d been bathed in rosewater and had her hair styled into a confection of dark curls, she was handed a small note card by Bertha, her mother’s lady’s maid.

Bertha’s countenance bore none of the excitement Dodger had failed to contain. She must be in her early forties now, but her pinched disapproval made her look years older. “Your mother wished me to remind you that there are to be neither gentleman callers nor any display that even hints at vulgarity while you are under their roof.” With that, she bobbed and stalked from the room.

If Elizabeth were still a girl of fifteen, she might have stuck out her tongue at Bertha’s retreating back. Since she was five and twenty, she did nothing. If her parents thought she might try to sneak a man into her bedchamber, it was because she had done it before.

Recalling the note, she looked to the card in her hand and flipped it over. Her mother’s flowing penmanship left no word illegible. The message was spelled out with perfect clarity:

Elizabeth,

Your father and I would have appreciated a word of notice. I’d say you were raised better than to drop on our doorstep, but then I would say you were raised better about most of the decisions you have chosen to make. So really, it makes no difference whether I wish you had sent word ahead or not, because you will only do what is best for you.

In any case, we were forced to retract an invitation to Lord Tweley and his wife lest we put them in the distressing position of encountering you, so you need not worry there will be company at dinner. I hope you do not mean to be here long. Your father and I wish to retire to Bath for the remainder of the summer, and I am sure you will not be rude enough to