Harmless Deception

Lesley-Anne McLeod

Description

Is a deception ever harmless? Can dishonesty ever be justified? Tansy Evens thinks so, as does milliner Grace Whitton. The scheme they propose will harm no one and will provide them with a basis for introduction to the high society of London. Their deception will afford well-born Grace an opportunity to take her rightful place, if only briefly, and it will supply Tansy with a brief, dazzling season. To Tansy's brother Rufus, the Baron Evenswood, it offers nothing at all. However, he is convinced to take part against his better judgement. But their plan does not allow for the complications created by new friends, new loves, and old family connections. No deception can take place without harm to someone. And this one may have grave consequences for all.

Sujets

• Historical romance

Informations

• Publié par: Uncial Press
• Date de parution: 14 mai 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781601740915
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Harmless Deception
By
Lesley-Anne McLeod
Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon 2010

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-60174-091-5
Copyright © 2010 by Lesley-Anne McLeod
Cover design Copyright © 2010 by Judith B. Glad
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Published by Uncial Press, an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
CHAPTER ONE
Grace Whitton was changing the display of goods in the bowed window of her shop,Graceful Millinery, when first she saw them. A man and a young woman, standing on thepavement edging Felling Street.
She could not think why the pair attracted her attention. They were unremarkable,though handsome enough in a countrified way. They were staring about at the busy street in abemused fashion, obviously unused to city ways. Rustics on their first visit to London, shedecided with practiced ease, underfunded and uncertain. She hoped they would not decide toenter her establishment.
Grace attempted to cultivate a sophisticated trade, even though the ambition presentedher with challenges. Situated as it was on the wrong--east--side of Charing Cross on one of theside streets fringing The Strand, her shop catered to the wives and daughters of City men,barristers and solicitors, successful merchants and seafarers, bankers and manufacturers, and thelike. The lower classes did patronize her as well, and they all were improved by visits to hershop, but they were not encouraged. Graceful Millinery did not presume to attract the beaumonde , but it provided elegant fripperies and costume enhancements of impeccable taste, aswell as bonnets and hats in the latest modes to those desiring to be thought fashionable.
She placed two peacock feathers to a nicety beside a pair of palest blue elbow-lengthgloves. While avoiding the appearance of looking at the pair staring toward her window, shecontinued to observe them. They looked cold in the blustery late March afternoon. A nasty windwas blowing little whirls of grit and refuse down the busy street, and the sun was shining withouta hint of spring warmth.
The couple moved as she replaced the mulberry velvet toque on the hat stand with aplaited-straw bonnet bound and be-ribboned in blue and willow green and decorated by an arrayof silk flowers tumbling about its narrow brim. She turned her head a trifle, and she could stillsee them from the corner of her eye.
The man was tall; his loosely-tailored coat, comfortably fitted breeches and dusty bootscould not conceal powerful shoulders, a broad, deep chest, and muscular legs. His strong featureswere illumined by alert, moss green eyes, and his auburn hair was gathered back in anold-fashioned queue under a broad-brimmed hat. He could not have more clearly proclaimed hiscountry origins.
His companion was at least ten years his junior, a pretty girl of medium height, at themoment apparently consumed by melancholy. Her untrimmed silk bonnet and dark blue cloakwere of good quality fabric but sadly out-of-date styling. The brown hair visible inside herbonnet--surrounding a piquant face that looked more suited to merriment than misery--held atinge of auburn, and her hazel eyes more than a hint of green. A lively country girl, Gracedecided.
Surely they would pass by. They hesitated, held a brief discussion, turned away, thenturned back. No, they were opening the door, coming in.
Grace backed out of the window, and shook out her jaconet muslin skirts without haste.She gave them a polite greeting, and as she always did with new customers, left them to orientthemselves.
She liked to give visitors an opportunity to examine the wares she had artfullydisplayed. She was proud of her shop; it was tastefully fashioned as a drawing room with one ortwo good pictures hanging between the shelves on walls distempered in a pale mastic colour toreflect light into every corner. Oil lamps augmented the illumination provided by the widewindow, and a handsome carpet quieted footsteps on the wooden floorboards. A small closedstove of the newest design gave a comforting heat on the back wall, and the muffled voices ofher staff in the workroom offered a pleasant background hum.
Bonnets, hats, turbans and caps, some exotic feathers, spangled scarves, myriad glovesand expensive silk flowers lay upon the shelves and tables, and peeped from open stock drawers,splashing colour and texture across the subdued setting. The man appeared unmoved by thedisplay of beauty around him, but the girl's eyes rounded and her small mouth pursed in an 'O' ofdelight.
Grace was weary; it had been a busy day, although the country pair currently were theonly visitors. She longed for them to leave so that she might put up her closed sign and goupstairs to her parlour and rest. But her mother had taught her to never turn away custom, so withresolve she set aside her weariness.
Her sales assistant, Nancy, crossed the shop and paused for a brief word about her nextday's work. Grace bade her good-night, and decided she had given her new customers enoughtime to look around. It was time to gently urge them to a purchase or from the store. Shesummoned a smile, and took a step towards the pair.
The young lady met her aloof, polite gaze, gulped hastily and burst into tears.
Grace's smile faltered and failed; she hesitated in her progress across the shop. She wasappalled by the girl's lack of restraint and at the same time touched by her obvious distress.
The man regarded his companion worriedly, patting her shoulder in a hearty way. "Stifleyour greeting, Tans. 'Tis better saved for home, private like. Come now." He fished a snowyhandkerchief from his pocket and passed it to the young woman.
The girl accepted the linen square, sniffed and said, "Home? Home is hundreds of milesaway!"
Grace deemed it time to intervene, before another customer entered on the off-puttingscene. She was moved by the girl's misery, but if these people were purse-pinched and prone todrama, it could do her custom no good.
She summoned her smile again. "May I be of assistance, sir, miss? Is anything amiss? Ido hope my wares have not upset the young lady so." Her mild attempt at humour was greetedwith fleeting looks of incomprehension. The man was watching her with a wariness she misliked,while the girl gulped back her distress.
She sighed inwardly. These were rustics indeed. "Were you interested in hats, or perhapsgloves, miss?" she asked, deeming it best to ignore the tears that the girl was wiping away. Shehad found a direct inquiry often disarmed difficult patrons and caused casual callers to be ontheir way.
The man challenged her slightly disdainful air with a direct look and a coldly politeanswer. "We were looking for a bonnet, a nice fashionable one, for my sister, ma'am." His voicewas deep, and husky as if with disuse, but his speech was more cultured than she had expected,given his previous words.
Offended by his cold unresponsiveness, Grace lifted her pointed chin a little. "In whatstyle...what colour?"
The young lady spoke for herself, apparently recovered from her outburst. "It is nogood, Rufus. A new hat might cheer me if I had any fashionable frock to match it, but I have not.And how can I know what to buy? I am so far from knowing anything of the current modes that Icannot imagine wearing anything displayed here." Her round chin trembled. "Even the fashionperiodicals I have studied were a year out of date."
Grace feared more tears; pity stirred reluctantly in her. "Will you come to the tablehere?" She waved a hand gracefully at rear of her shop. "I can bring you some selections to try."She did not know what drove her to make the offer. She should surely have determined if theyhad the money to make a purchase before offering to display her wares.
The girl looked to her brother for guidance and he nodded. "Do it if you wish, Tansy.'Tis what we came for."
He continued to watch Grace narrowly. Though she was made uncomfortable by thescrutiny, she restrained urge to snap at him.
Instead, she turned her attention to the girl. "You would be much complimented bygreen, if I may say so, miss." She stepped around the gentleman with exaggerated care andcrossed her shop to retrieve a pale straw bonnet bound in green grosgrain ribbon, trimmed with acascade of silk leaves and a curling feather in the same green. She returned to the girl,circumnavigating the man once more. He merely regarded her steadily.
To her dismay the girl did not seize upon the hat with delight. Rather, her wide hazeleyes welled with tears once more. "It...it's lovely," she choked out. "But I have nothing suitablewith which to wear it. You see, Miss...Miss..."
"Whitton, Grace Whitton." Grace had the feeling she was about to be the recipient ofconfidences she should avoid. But she was developing a curiosity about the pair, and waited forthe information with composure.
"Miss Whitton, we are newly come to London from the country, from County Durham.My brother," she waved a hand to indicate her companion, "promised me a come-out in London,has always promised me that, but it is not at all what we thought. We are sadly unfashionable,and have no entrée into society. At least, my brother has letters of introduction but howare we to use them? And how can we use them when we look so...so countrified? We have noone to tell us how to go on." She stared into Grace's face, imploring understanding.
She was expecting assistance, Grace realized, hoping for deliverance from herignorance. She hesita