Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [82]
“A thousand pounds? Oh, very well. But I want you to put the matter to Rose yourself. I’ve had enough of her tantrums.”
“Very well.”
Rose was summoned to the drawing room. She stood in the doorway and surveyed the captain. Lady Polly thought for one moment that the very air seemed to crackle between them, but put it down to the cold working on her imagination.
“The captain has something to say to you,” said the earl. “He has my blessing.”
A faint blush suffused Rose’s beautiful face. So Harry had asked for her hand in marriage! Well, she wouldn’t accept, but still...
Her parents left the room. “Pray be seated,” said Harry.
Rose sank down gracefully into an armchair by the fire. He sat down opposite and a little frown creased her brow. Shouldn’t he be getting down on one knee?
“I have come up with a solution to your problem,” began Harry.
I do not wish to marry,” said Rose, but she gave him a little smile and her long eyelashes fluttered.
“Of course you don’t,” said Harry cheerfully. “You want to be a working woman and I am here to help you.”
Rose’s face hardened with disappointment. “What is your plan?” she asked.
Harry outlined his idea but without saying that the merchant banker would be paid to employ her, merely saying he knew of two typing vacancies at the bank.
“And my parents agreed to this?” asked Rose faintly.
“Yes, they are anxious to leave for Nice.”
“I suppose I must thank you,” said Rose, feeling depressed. It was one thing to dream, another to face going out in the cold winter to work.
“Very well. If you come across any difficulties, please let me know. My card.”
Rose felt an odd impulse to burst into tears as she took his card.
“Remember, you must be sure not to betray your real rank. You must wear ordinary clothes and be known simply as Miss Summer. And modify your accent. I am sure Daisy will tell you how. I suggest you buy cheap clothes. I am sure that even your oldest ones will betray your rank No furs.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you will be a good daughter and go with your parents to Nice and then, I suppose, to India which is the destination these days of all failed debutantes. Your parents do not seem too anxious to pay for another season.”
“You are blunt, too blunt.”
“I call a spade a spade.”
“Indeed! Are you usually so cliche-ridden?”
“Good day to you, Lady Rose.”
“Infuriating woman!” said Harry to his manservant, Becket, when he returned to his Chelsea home that evening.
“Do you think Lady Rose will actually go ahead with it, sir?” asked Becket, placing a decanter of sherry and glass on the table next to Harry.
“Oh, I’m sure she will. Stubborn as a mule!”
Daisy chewed her thumbnail and glanced nervously at her mistress. If the weather hadn’t been so cold! Also, she had become used to lavish meals and pretty clothes. And to think that she had almost persuaded Rose to go to Nice after she had learned that Captain Cathcart intended to holiday there. But the captain had cancelled his plans for a vacation, becoming embroiled in setting up his new business. Daisy thought the captain would make Rose a very suitable husband, and she herself was fond of the captain’s servant, Becket. Her face lit up as an idea struck her.
“I saw the captain’s advertisement in The Tatler the other day. He’s just started that detective agency. Maybe he needs a secretary. Be more exciting than working in a bank.”
“What a good idea!” exclaimed Rose. “And I could help him to detect like a did last year. We will go out tomorrow to say we are looking for working clothes and we will go there instead.”
On the following day, Miss Jubbles