Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife. Michelle StylesЧитать онлайн книгу.

       End of January 1814—Ladywell, Northumberland

      ‘We have arrived, miss.’

      Snow swirled around the Honourable Phoebe Benedict as she alighted from the carriage. Not the soft downy flakes of her Cotswold childhood, or the coal-flecked ones of London, but hard biting snow with a wind to match, the sort of snow that crept into the bones and lingered. Phoebe peered through the veil of white. The house rose up in front of her—grey, stern, without a hint of candlelight to welcome her.

      For the first time since she’d started this journey, her optimism vanished and the nerves coiled around the pit of her stomach, waiting to strike. She was truly alone here, without friends or family. Phoebe gave her head a decisive shake, banishing all thoughts of failure back to that dark and lonely place. She would demonstrate to all her family and acquaintances that she was capable of more than visiting and pouring endless cups of tea.

      ‘Are you going to take this…this creature with you, miss?’ the coachman asked, reaching into the carriage and withdrawing a wicker basket. He looked at it with distaste as the ‘creature’in the basket gave an angry cry.

      ‘Yes, of course.’ Phoebe took the basket and peeped under the cloth at the scrawny kitten. A pair of green eyes blinked up at her before the cat let out another ear-piercing yowl. She hated to think about what could have happened if she had not spotted it lying beside its dead mother, friendless and alone. ‘I refused to leave the creature to die in the cold of the inn, and I am hardly likely to leave it now.’

      ‘I have no idea what Mr Clare will say about a cat.’ The coachman grimaced slightly. ‘The big house doesn’t have any, like. No pets whatsoever now that Miss Diana…I mean Lady Coltonby…has left with her terrier. I should have said at the time, but I just wanted to get on with the journey. Mr Clare is not going to like it.’

      ‘Cats are a useful addition to any home.’ Phoebe tucked the basket under her arm. She would find a way. How could anyone turn a helpless kitten away? Simon Clare’s sister, Diana, Lady Coltonby, was the epitome of grace and charm combined with practicality. Her brother was bound to be the same. He would see the necessity of keeping a cat, if he did not already possess one. ‘They help to keep the mice down and only ask for a saucer of milk and a warm place by the fire in return.’

      ‘You are braver than I. The master doesn’t take kindly to his will being crossed. I can tell you that for nothing.’

      ‘Once Mr Clare understands the situation, I feel certain that he will be amenable.’

      ‘I say nothing.’ The coachman shook his head gloomily. ‘Mr Clare gave me orders to return with Miss Diana or not to come back at all. Mayhap we should have stayed in London.’

      ‘Lady Coltonby specifically sent word.’ Phoebe juggled the basket with her large portmanteau and withdrew a letter. ‘She assured me that this would suffice. Lord Coltonby agreed. Mr Clare wants help with his son. I am here to provide it. It is a sensible, practical solution to the problem.’

      ‘I just wouldn’t want to cross him, not on account of a kitten that was likely to die anyway.’ The coachman tapped the side of his nose. ‘You ain’t seen him in a temper, miss.’

      ‘One must do one’s duty as one sees it. One’s destiny is not written until it is lived. Something had to be done.’ Phoebe looked towards the house again and knew she had to believe the words. This was about more than saving a kitten. She had to face Simon Clare and break the news that his sister would not be returning to Northumberland as he demanded. Mr Clare had to accept the inevitable.

      A blast of freezing air drove the snow