Hidden in the Heart Read Online Free

to her.
    ‘How many times,’ she cried, her voice resounding through the shop as if she were singing an aria at Covent Garden, ‘I have told my husband that the carriage is a ruinous waste of money, I do not know. After all, one can hire very fine vehicles at reasonable rates for the occa sional jaunt. But the poor dear is so old-fashioned. He insists that our standards should not be lowered to that of cits and assorted mushrooms.’
    ‘I think you are very wise, ma’am,’ Lydia said sweetly, ‘to draw attention to your superior station. If you did not, who would ever know of it?’
    Mrs Wardle-Penfield frowned, not certain whether or not she should construe this as a compliment. In the end she evidently decided that it could be nothing else, and continued with her soliloquy.
    ‘I am sure, my dear Miss Denton,’ she said with a pointed look, ‘that you will want your niece to become acquainted with the most unexceptionable members of our little community. You shall both attend my card party on Friday next.’
    This was not an invitation, but a command. The lady proceeded to enumerate the pleasures which awaited them at her residence. By the time she had passed from the quality of her refreshments to the weave of the carpet in her drawing room, Lydia was quite exhausted and Aunt Camilla no longer even bothered to nod her assent at every word, but merely stared stupidly at her tormentor, aban doning the struggle.
    From this social purgatory they were rescued by the arrival of a large and rather awkward young gentleman, who seemed curiously impervious to the mesmerizing power of the older woman. This was a trait which endeared him to Lydia at once.
    ‘Good morning, ma’am!’ he called jovially to Mrs Wardle- Penfield. ‘How d’ye do, Miss Denton?’
    ‘You are very cheerful this fine morning, my lad!’
    ‘Nothing to mope about, Mrs P,’ he answered the old lady, who seemed none too pleased at being thus add ressed.
    ‘Have you been introduced to Miss Denton’s niece?’ Mrs Wardle-Penfield enquired.
    ‘No,’ he answered, ‘but I don’t mind if I do now.’
    Aunt Camilla performed this necessary office, and Lydia received a hearty handshake from the gentleman, whose name was John Savidge. She judged him to be about her own age, with sandy hair cropped fashionably short and wide-open brown eyes. His suit was well-cut, though prob ably not by a London tailor. It was just a trifle too comfortable-looking for that.
    ‘How does your grandmother get on?’ Aunt Camilla asked him. ‘She still lives in Piddinghoe, does she not?’
    ‘Yes indeed, ma’am.’ He gave a devilish grin. ‘Not a day goes by that she doesn’t threaten to cock up her toes, but I tell her she’ll live to dance on all our graves.’
    The young man’s irreverent manner clearly did not suit Mrs Wardle-Penfield, who soon spied another victim passing outside the shop window and took herself off in pursuit of fresh sport.
    Lydia and her aunt followed her outside, but mercifully their path led in the opposite direction. They were soon joined by Mr Savidge, who had concluded his own purchase and whose long strides easily bridged the short distance between them.
    Almost as soon as he came up beside them, Lydia caught sight of a very distinctive physiognomy across the street from them.
    ‘It’s Nose!’ The words came out before she could stop to consider.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ Aunt Camilla turned to her with a look of wonder.
    ‘Whose nose?’ Mr Savidge asked, equally surprised, but apparently not so apprehensive of her sanity as her aunt clearly was.
    Despite herself, Lydia blushed.
    ‘The gentleman across the street,’ she confessed, being careful not to point or stare.
    The other two directed their gaze to the opposite side of the high road. Nose was engaged in a conversation with another man who was certainly much better-looking and quite a few years younger.
    ‘It is Monsieur d’Almain!’ Her aunt seemed suddenly rather