A Lady’s Lesson in Scandal by Meredith Duran Page A

like to think how tight her throat would feel in a noose. She focused instead on Hannah, whose hand was trembling beneath hers. “You’re all right, now,” she said, giving the girl a proper squeeze. “And Hannah …” Why not dream big? “Think of it. This means I could be rich. Rich beyond all belief!”
    A moment of silence passed. Hannah looked up to show a frown. “But you’re not that girl, Nell.”
    “Maybe I’m not. But …” She hesitated, then spoke in a rush: “There’s this painting in St. Maur’s library and I swear to you that I’ve seen the place before.” She’d been thinking about it. “I recognized the house in it. And you were the one who said I looked like that girl in the photograph.”
    “True, but you say—” Hannah cast a quick glance toward the door, which still stood closed. “You say you’re her father’s bastard,” she whispered. “So maybe you saw the house as a babe.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though I can’t credit that you kept that secret from me! All these years, and you never breathed a word!”
    “But Mum never told me of Rushden till she got sick.” Why hadn’t she told? Nell felt her stomach tighten. “And if this bloke is right, she had cause to keep quiet, didn’t she?”
    Hannah made a sharp noise and pulled free of her grip. “I can’t credit my ears. You think your mum could do such a thing? Aye, Mrs. Whitby was a small bit daft, but it takes a bedlamite for sure to steal another woman’s babe!”
    Nell flushed. The words too closely echoed her own thoughts. “I’m not saying she was a bedlamite! But ifshe did it—” She took a breath. “Well, maybe she had cause. Maybe she worried for me. Maybe I wasn’t safe, somehow, or …” She trailed off. Hannah was looking at her like she was blaspheming on a Sunday.
    “Here,” Hannah said tartly, thrusting the handkerchief out. “Take this back. If you’re going off to whore, I want no part of the payment!”
    Nell shook her head. A sinking feeling was overtaking her. “He talked of marriage, not a poke.”
    Hannah let out a snort. “You didn’t used to be a fool.”
    Nell stared at the fine handkerchief, clenched so tightly in Hannah’s freckled, work-worn fingers. “You’re right to worry,” she said quietly. “You’re right about Mum, too. Of course she wouldn’t have done that.”
    “No, she wouldn’t.” Hannah’s jaw squared. “But I see how you were taken in,” she offered. “He’s a right handsome beast, and I’m grateful that you made him free me. But what a bounder to try to trick you like that! If he wants you for a moll, he might be honest, at least!”
    Here was the catch. “I don’t think he’s lying.” Nell shrugged. “What’s he to gain by trickery? Men like him, they think they can buy any girl they like. And to want to buy me?” She made a face. “I’m no eyesore, but it’s a bit of a stretch to think he’d go to so much trouble for
me
, don’t you think?”
    Hannah’s mouth pursed. “You’re pretty, Nellie. Dickie Jackson always—”
    “Oh, piffle to Dickie! You twig what I mean. I’m not
you
. Maybe if it were
you
, I’d believe he’d make up lies to have you. But—let’s be frank, Han.”
    “I don’t know …”
    “Forget the question of Mum,” Nell said hastily. “Just consider this: no matter what’s true, he believes his story. Either way, then, I’ve naught to lose by going back to him.” Besides, St. Maur had too much on her for her to dare refuse his offer. But she wouldn’t worry Hannah with that point.
    “Oh, aye, I’d wager he
will
believe this story,” Hannah said, her tone ominous. “Until the day comes when he’s supposed to wed you!
Then
you see what he believes! You’ll be left high and dry without a penny to show for it!”
    Nell made an impatient noise. “No, but listen: he
did
promise to set me up, Hannah—a whole wardrobe of new clothes, he said, to introduce me to his kind. Now, imagine what I could