Miss Goodhue Lives for a Night Read Online Free

beyond the large dark blob in front of her. “Good morning! My name is Miss Goodhue, I need to speak with Lord Ashby. His friend Mr. Turner wrote on my be—”
    â€œMiss Goodhue?” A deep voice clipped out. A deep, strangely familiar voice. “Miss Cecilia Goodhue?”
    â€œYes,” she replied, blinking up at the blob. “Oh, thank goodness, Mr. Turner’s letter must have reached you.”
    â€œYes, Cee,” the voice said. “His letter reached the earl.”
    A cold shiver ran down her spine. And it had nothing to do with the water drenching her from head to toe.
    Cee .
    There was only one man who had ever called her Cee. One man, who had looked at her with eyes as blue as the sky as if he were dying of thirst and she was the well of life. A man who’d whispered words of love in her ear, right before he left her in the middle of an inn on the road to Scotland, never to be seen again.
    Until now.
    â€œGet inside,” Theo Hudson bit out, holding the door open. “Your dying on the Earl of Ashby’s doorstep is the last thing we need.”

3
    I t was supposed to be an ordinary day, Theo thought, as he sat across from a shivering and still dripping Cecilia Goodhue in the Earl of Ashby’s sitting room. A maid had taken away her wet traveling cloak and bonnet and wrapped a shawl around her. A tea tray was promised to arrive within minutes, but the kitchen was still busy laying out that morning’s breakfast, such was the earliness of the hour.
    If this had been a regular day, Theo would only now be getting up. His man would have the hot towels ready for his morning shave—for all the good it would do; his chin would be rough as sandpaper by supper. And then he would take a leisurely stroll to the offices—or rather today, a leisurely hackney ride. However, last night, his offices received a note from the Earl of Ashby, requesting that he come around this morning to assist with a situation involving a letter the earl had received, of a delicate nature. As he was the newest partner of the Henry, Smithson, and Rowe law firm that represented the earl, he was eager to make himself useful to their most important client.
    He had just arrived himself, and the maid had taken away his coat and hat when the knock came on the door. No one else was in the hall, and not wanting anyone to have to stand out in the horrendous rain, he’d answered it.
    And come face-to-face with his white-faced, soaking-wet past.
    â€œHow was your journey?” he said. Because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was all too silent in here, the rain pattering on the windows, dulling every other noise. And she was silent too, shivering and staring and holding a potted plant on her lap.
    â€œFine,” she replied. “I mean—good, it was good. The roads from Lincolnshire were very clear—the rain didn’t start until we reached the borders of London.”
    â€œYou should have waited until it let up to call,” he said. “Drivers in London become especially reckless in this kind of weather.”
    â€œOh,” she replied. “I . . . it’s a matter of great importance. I didn’t want to wait, you see.”
    â€œWould you perhaps tell me about it?” he found himself asking, wanting to bite his tongue. “I am here at the earl’s disposal.”
    â€œAt his disposal?”
    â€œI’m an attorney. I work for the firm that represents his interests. He asked me here to assist with something his friend wrote him about.” He tilted his head to one side. “You.”
    â€œI . . . I would rather speak to the earl, if you don’t mind,” she said. “He’s the one I’m told I can trust.”
    His face burned at her words, but not in shame. In anger. Because why on earth should she think that she couldn’t trust him ?
    When in truth, everything was the other way