Read The Adventuress: HFTS5 for Free Online Page B

on the first visit and then thought I might perhaps take it after all—I found it already tenanted, and by quite the most beautiful female I ever beheld.”
    “She does not exist! She was some fairy!”
    “Not she. And in moments of stress, of the earth, earthy.”
    “Who is this paragon?”
    “A Miss Emily Goodenough.”
    “Ah, she will turn out to be your chambermaid, Emilia.”
    “Shhh. Can you imagine how damned I would be if anyone but you knew I wrote books? Did you like it? The latest one, I mean. It is to be published soon.”
    “It was flattering to be allowed to read it before the publisher, and I enjoyed it very much. I recognised many members of the ton in it. You have a keen eye and a biting wit, my friend. But I did not recognise Emilia. Poor girl. You certainly vented all your dislike of servants on her. It was a bit far-fetched, too. No chambermaid, however beautiful, could foist herself on the London ton.”
    “It’s fiction,” laughed the earl. “Only fiction.”
    “Then let us return to fact. The beautiful Miss Goodenough. What caused the stress?”
    “While we were conversing, and I quite smitten with her beauty, two things happened. My horses outside took fright, and I returned in time to find Miss Goodenough standing on a chair—revealing, I may say, ankles to make a strong man faint—and screaming her head off while a sort of House That Jack Built situation raged around her. A rat was being chased by a cat which was being chased by a small boy who was being chased by a butler who knocked over the tea-table. But I exaggerate. That was what appeared to have happened. I was not on the scene at the time, but as I returned after quietening my horses, I received the rat full in the face and the claws of the kitchen cat as it jumped up me to get at the rat.
    “The beautiful divinity blamed the servants. She appeared to think they had contrived all.”
    “And had they?”
    “I do not think any London servants would dare to go so far.”
    “And was that when Miss Goodenough fell from her pedestal?”
    “Yes. She blamed the servants in language that was common to say the least.”
    “Just like your Emilia!” cried Fritz.
“That
is when her swain sees the dross beneath the gold. You were hard on her, I must say. You might have let her marry her lord.”
    The earl laughed. “And be a model for other presumptuous chambermaids? Never!”
    “I confess I have a burning desire to see Miss Goodenough. Has she parents?”
    “No. An odd sort of uncle with a twisted face.”
    “And a sinister sneer?”
    “Who is the novelist? You or I? No, a gentleman of apologetic and deferential mien. He departed before all the drama, leaving me alone with Miss Emily.”
    “Very unconventional. And so Miss Emily has feet of clay. She lies in ruins at the bottom of her pedestal.”
    “Well…” said the earl reluctantly, “I happened to be walking along Clarges Street early the morning after and she was paying the watchman—to go away, I think—and she stood on the step in the sunlight with her hair down her back in only her nightgown and wrapper.”
    “Worse and worse and commoner and commoner. You gave a shudder and kept on walking.”
    “On the contrary,” said the earl, “I stood there gazing on all that freshness and innocence and beauty and thought I had never seen anything quite so exquisite or quite so touching in my life before.”
    “Odso! You are become romantic at last, my friend. No more shall we have to smart under the lash of your tongue in those bitter novels of yours!”
    “Not I,” said the earl. “I shall avoid Miss Emily in the future for fear she may open her mouth and ruin quite the most beautiful picture I ever beheld!”
    Lizzie, the scullery maid, hurried back to 67 Clarges Street from Shepherd Market. She had been sent out to buy black pepper for Angus, the cook, and although the market was just around the corner, she had spent more time there than was necessary, enjoying