The Substitute Countess by Lyn Stone Page A

and new hairstyle improved her as it would any woman, but he had never thought her plain. Rather ordinary at first, perhaps, but not later when he’d had a good look. Thank God he hadn’t said that. But maybe he had inferred somehow that he’d thought her looks to be too ordinary before this evening.
    Maybe he shouldn’t have brought to attention her earlier attitude. He’d only done that to mark how he knew she could hold her own in any situation if she would but try. Things had gone awry from the start and he didn’t understand why she took such offense.
    Oh, well, he would go up and apologize anyway just in the event it really was his fault. Aye, an apology should turn her up sweet. A smile and a kiss should finish the trick. Then a great lot of kisses and what would follow those should banish all of her squalls by morning.
    The maid was just coming out of Laurel’s room when he topped the stairs. “Good evening, Betty, is it?” he asked, practicing his smile.
    “Yes, sir. And a good evening it is, sir,” she said, returning his smile with a toothy grin. “I’m to be our lady’s maid. She just now said so, so you may call me Thornwhistle hereafter if you like.”
    “Uh, excellent. Congratulations. Lady Laurel’s in her room then?” he asked, with a nod toward the door.
    Betty frowned as she nodded. “Yes, sir, but I’m afraid she’s indisposed this evening.”
    “Ill?” he demanded, worried that she had come down with something caught during her outing. That could explain her attack of temper earlier. Or maybe she was just angry.
    “Not exactly ill, sir. Indisposed, ” the maid said again with emphasis, raised brows and inclined head, as if imparting a secret. Or something not to be directly discussed.
    Ah. He was to glean from that, Laurel was undergoing the unspoken malady suffered monthly by all women, he supposed. Damn it all. Another week of denial. “All right then. Thank you, Betty. Uh, Thornwhistle, is it?”
    “It is and you’re quite welcome, sir. Shall I send George or Will up to you?” She hesitated a beat. “I would recommend George as the most likely gent’s gent.”
    “Thank you, no, I’ll ring if need be. Go along now,” Jack said, his mind still on Laurel, wondering whether he should look in on her or if she’d rather be left alone.
    Alone, he decided. The mystery was solved as far as he was concerned. Women were known to behave rather strangely at times like this, so he had been told. He must get used to it now that he was a husband.
    The problem was that he was not really a husband yet. None of the rewards, yet all of the liabilities, he thought with a huff of resignation.
    He went back down the stairs to the old earl’s library. Perhaps a dull book and a snifter of Elderidge’s brandy would sand away the rough edges of his thoroughly vexing day.
    * * *
    Jack breakfasted alone again the next day and headed for the solicitor’s office. He needed to discuss the finances in more detail. Laurel’s questions as to the actual amount involved in the earl’s bequest underlined the need to have specifics.
    There were also questions as to how the staffs were to be paid and how bills were handled at both locations. However, when he arrived at Hobson’s office, he found that the man was at the bank on business and might not be returning until early afternoon.
    The male secretary advised Jack that Mr. Hobson would gladly attend him at the Mayfair residence at whatever time would be convenient. Jack suggested four o’clock and left the place.
    He wandered rather aimlessly after that, walking briskly along unfamiliar streets, trying to banish some of the pent-up energy that constantly plagued him when he did not exercise to extreme.
    London was not well-known to him, though he had been there a number of times. Normally he would have a specific errand there, conclude it and either go on to Plymouth or set sail. Today he paid more attention to his surroundings since he figured he