Emily and the Dark Angel (30 page)

“No, milord. Of course not! But a young lady who’s fallen on hard times, like. You wouldn’t have to beg her, then, would you? She’d be the one who’d be grateful.”

“A very neat point. I gather you have someone in mind, Susie.”

“Yes, milord.”

“A lady?”

“Yes, milord. At least, her father was a gentleman scholar.”

Nims held out an embroidered waistcoat and Sax put his arms into it. “Sounds promising. How has she come to be in straitened circumstances?”

“Her parents died, milord. Suddenly, a few months back. Turned out there wasn’t much money. So there’s poor Miss Gillingham, with her brothers and sisters to take care of, and no money to speak of.”

“A heart-wrenching tale. How do you come to know about it?” Nims was fastening the silver buttons, and Knox had flown to perch on Sax’s shoulder.

“My sister was a maid there, milord. She stayed on for a while without wages, she felt so sorry for them, but in the end she had to take another post. But I’m not saying you should . . . form a union with this Miss Gillingham. I really don’t know much about her. Just that there must be many others like her. Glad to go to the altar, even in a hurry, and grateful for the chance.”

Sax took Knox on his hand and made a contemplative circuit of the room. “She’d not expect false protestations of love,” he said to Owain. “She wouldn’t need to be sweet-talked into it. She’d be less likely to be extravagant or flighty ...”

“She could be ugly as sin.”

Sax looked at Susie.

“My sister never mentioned her looks, milord.”

“Where is your sister?”

“Out of town. Her family’s gone to their Shropshire estate for the season.”

After a moment, Sax put the parrot on his shoulder and turned to Owain, hand held out. “Coin.”

Not at all happy with the situation, Owain dug out a shilling and tossed it over.

Sax snared it out of the air. “Heads, it’s Miss Gillingham. Tails, it’s whichever of those other names I pull out of a hat.”

Before Owain could protest, the coin spun glittering through the air to be caught and slapped down on the back of Sax’s hand. “Heads!” he said, and flicked the two-shilling piece over to Susie. “Go and inform Miss Gillingham of the pleasures in store for her.”

“Me?” Susie squeaked.

“You. And to sweeten the pot, if she goes through with it tomorrow, I’ll give you and Monk enough to set up your own place.”

The two servants shared a dazed look. “Really, milord?” asked the footman.

“Word of a Torrance.”

Jo Beverley
is widely regarded as one of the most talented romance writers today. She is a
New York Times
bestseller, five-time winner of Romance Writers of America’s cherished RITA Award and one of only a handful of members of the RWA Hall of Fame. She has also twice received the
Romantic Times
Career Achievement Award. She has two grown sons and lives with her husband in England. You can visit her Web site at
www.jobev.com
.