by Regina Scott
“We don’t have a spare bed,” he warned Miss Thorn. “She’d have to stay elsewhere.”
“She’ll be staying with me for a time,” Miss Thorn said. “I would expect a fair wage and transportation back to my establishment each day she’s helping you, say Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, for several hours.”
That wouldn’t be so bad. His sisters might gain the advantage, and he might learn a few things to keep from embarrassing himself when presented to the prince. And if he did this service for a lady, he might forget the one lady he could never have.
“All right,” he agreed. “She can start tomorrow.”
“No!”
Matthew blinked, turning to stare at the beauty in the doorway. That thick auburn hair with its fiery highlights, the flashing grey eyes, the lithe figure, supple as a sapling. Once more his gut clenched.
“Miss…Miss Worthington?” he stammered.
She rushed into the room, so unlike her usually poised and graceful self that he knew something terrible had happened. He strode to meet her.
“What is it?” he demanded, taking her hands. “Is it your brother? Has there been another threatening letter?”
“No, no.” She pulled away, gathering her dignity like a queenly robe. Drawing an audible breath through her nose, she raised her head and met his gaze, hers now cool, emotionless.
“There’s been a mistake,” she said firmly. “I’m sorry we troubled you.”
Matthew glanced between her and Miss Thorn, realization dawning and bringing horror with it. “You’re the impoverished lady I’ll be helping?”
Her delicate chin hardened until he would have been afraid to face her across the boxing square. “Scarcely impoverished, sir. Nor are you the white-haired general I was promised.”
Miss Thorn gathered her cat closer, smile still pleasant. “I never claimed Miss Worthington was impoverished, and I certainly never commented on the color of Mr. Bateman’s hair. I see no reason to protest, unless you can give me good reason, Miss Worthington.”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, then bit her lip. Such a pretty lip too, pink and warm looking. Matthew snapped his gaze to her face. Were those tears in her eyes? What had he done that was so terrible? How could he make it up to her?
“I have worked with Mr. Bateman in the past,” she said. “I do not believe continued connection to be appropriate.”
Now, there was a facer. Still, what did he expect? The prince might want to honor him, but most men looking at him would see the Beast of Birmingham, a boxer so brutal he had permanently maimed a man in a fight. The latest round of press in the papers had only brought the sordid story up anew.
“I concur,” he said, voice and body heavy.
Miss Thorn sailed for the door. “A pity. The negotiations are concluded. I have accepted your offer of employment for Miss Worthington’s time. She will start tomorrow at eleven. No need to thank me. The results will speak for themselves.”
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About the Author
Regina Scott started writing novels in the third grade. Thankfully for literature as we know it, she didn’t sell her first novel until she learned a bit more about writing. Since her first book was published, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages including Dutch, German, Italian, and Portuguese. She now has more than forty published works of warm, witty romance.
She has spent many years dealing with scientists and science, working as a communications specialist and then scientist at a major national laboratory, though she never had Lydia’s winning ways to recommend her. Her critique partner and dear friend Kristy J. Manhattan, who she met through her scientific work, helped her come up with the idea for Fortune’s Brides. Kristy is an avid fan of cats, supporting spay and neuter clinics and pet rescue groups. If Fortune resembles any cat you know, credit Kristy.
Regina Scott and her husband of 30 years reside in the Puget Sound area of Washington State on the way to Mt. Rainier. She has dressed as a Regency dandy, driven four-in-hand, learned to fence, and sailed on a tall ship, all in the name of research, of course. Learn more about her at her website.
