A Little Bit Sinful. Adrienne Basso

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СКАЧАТЬ deep and wide it still hurt to think of it.

      Falling in love with a groom was such a cliché. The nobleman’s daughter and the servant. Yet she had loved John Tanner with all of her seventeen-year-old heart, and he had returned that love unconditionally.

      They knew their relationship was an impossibility. The only way they could be together was if they started fresh where no one knew of their past. It had taken months of plotting to formulate a plan of escape. They would first travel to Scotland to be married and then make their way to the coast, where John would find work.

      It was fairly easy to slip out of the manor house the night that they had planned to run away, yet telling John that she was not coming with him had been the most difficult thing Eleanor had ever done. Though she had wanted him with every fiber of her being, Eleanor knew she had to embrace the responsibility of caring for and protecting her sister or forever regret her choice.

      It was not a part of her nature to dwell on the past, to think of what might have been. Yet in the subsequent years there were moments when she wondered how her life would have been if she had been free to take a risk, to follow her heart.

      Eleanor pulled the white thread slowly through the delicate fabric, careful not to mar the lovely material of the gown she was remaking for Bianca. The dress had originally been Eleanor’s, a remnant of her disastrous debut Season. It was long out of fashion, but the quality of the material was timeless and with a bit of clever needlework it was a serviceable gown. More than serviceable, really, since anything Bianca wore looked elegant and refined.

      The earl was not overly generous when it came to his daughters’ upkeep. By necessity, Eleanor had perfected her sewing skills, remaking many older gowns for herself and her sister. These days she spent far less time on her own garments, for she was determined that Bianca always appear in fresh, fashionable clothes.

      Eleanor was debating whether to embroider a floral design at the base of the gown’s bodice when she heard the sound of heavy-booted feet stomping down the hall. Her hands stilled as she strained her ears, listening for the deep, booming voice that would certainly accompany them. It came all too soon, shouting at one of the footmen to open the drawing room door. Father.

      Eleanor swallowed hard, hoping to calm the sudden pain in her stomach. Before she had a chance to fully compose herself, the door swung open and the Earl of Hetfield stalked inside.

      Though well into his sixtieth year, the earl was still a handsome man. Tall, commanding, with a head of silver hair and a pair of piercing dark eyes, he dominated any room.

      “Papa! You’ve come home.” Bianca rushed forward to embrace him.

      Eleanor stayed seated. He was not the sort of parent who liked to show affection, though he tolerated Bianca’s attention without too much protest. As for herself, well, Eleanor could not recall an instance when her father had eagerly bestowed a hug to either of his daughters.

      “Careful there, girl, or you’ll crush my coat,” the earl grumbled.

      Eleanor’s shoulders stiffened at the callous remark, but Bianca laughed and hugged the earl tighter. For an instant she envied her sister’s naïveté. It protected her from hurt.

      “I’m sure there is not a wrinkle to be found anywhere on your illustrious person, my lord,” Eleanor said, eyeing his pristine white cravat and polished black boots. “Your valet would never allow it.”

      The earl tipped back his head and glanced at her, his brows drawing into a frown of puzzlement. Good Lord, does he not even know who I am? Her mouth dry, Eleanor forced her eyes to meet his, a shaky smile forming on her lips.

      “I need a drink,” the earl declared abruptly. “The roads from Town were a disaster.”

      “Let me get it for you, Papa,” Bianca offered.

      Without waiting for his answer, Bianca skipped over to the sideboard. Her lower lip curled under in confusion as she contemplated the trio of crystal decanters and variously shaped glasses.

      “Brandy,” Eleanor said, pointing to the tallest decanter. “And use the snifter.”

      “I’m surprised you remembered,” the earl remarked as he swirled the generous portion of amber liquid in the glass Bianca handed him.

      “I have an excellent memory,” Eleanor said, wishing she had the nerve to ask for a drink for herself. She rarely drank spirits, except for an occasional glass of wine with dinner. Yet she had a sinking feeling that this afternoon she was in need of a dose of false courage.

      “Memory is a most unappealing trait,” the earl said as he sat down. “Especially in a woman of your years, Eleanor.” Raising the glass to his mouth, the earl downed the contents in a single swallow.

      “You haven’t journeyed all this way for a drink,” Eleanor snapped, angry at the sting of hurt his words produced. Despite her best efforts, he still possessed the power to wound her. “Is there something specific you wanted?”

      “I have come to take Bianca to Town,” the earl announced. “‘Tis high time she was properly presented to society.”

      Bianca gasped with delight, clasping her hands together in glee. “London? Truly?”

      Eleanor frowned in puzzlement. “The Season has already begun.”

      “No matter,” the earl replied. “Things always start off slowly. All the truly important balls and soirees are yet to come.”

      “It will take weeks to get ready,” Eleanor said. “Bianca needs clothes, as well as instruction in deportment, etiquette, and dancing.”

      The earl waved his hand dismissively. “She needs only a single outfit to travel to London. We shall commission a wardrobe once we reach Town. As for the rest of it, I assume that you have taught her proper behavior. Are you now saying that you have neglected her all these years?”

      Eleanor bristled at the unfair criticism. “I have done my best, given my limited knowledge. You might recall my time in society was rather limited.” The earl favored her with a wry glare as if he needed no reminder of it. Eleanor felt herself start to shrink into her seat. John Tanner had left the estate two weeks before she went to London to embark on her disastrous Season. Heartbroken, she had gone through the motions, not caring that her plain looks and subdued personality had rendered her nearly invisible.

      With a shake of her head, Eleanor pulled herself upright. She refused to apologize for the past.

      “Fortunately, Bianca possesses both beauty and wit,” the earl said. “She will be a smashing success, I am certain.”

      What was this all about? Apprehension churned in Eleanor’s stomach, along with a healthy dose of fear. If their father’s honest intention was to introduce Bianca into society, why had he waited so long to let them know of his plans? Why had they not been given time to prepare? Even under the best of circumstances, it would be difficult for the provincial Bianca to make a success of it.

      “I am sure Bianca will enchant everyone,” Eleanor said cautiously. “Though her success would be guaranteed if she were allowed the proper time to prepare. Why not present her next Season?”

      “And miss out on this year’s splendid crop of eligible bachelors?” The earl walked to the sideboard, poured himself another generous dose СКАЧАТЬ