A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford (REGENCY MURDER AND MARRIAGE #2) by Claudia Stone EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Claudia Stone
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Miss Jane Mifford was in something of a quandary. Having spent most of
her one-and-twenty years espousing her wish to remain unwed, the past few
months had shown her that if she were to fulfil this desire that it would not
be without its downfalls.
Or rather downfall, singular. Her mother.
Jane did love her mama—she even liked her on occasion—though
she knew that any fondness she felt toward her was intrinsically linked to
how much time they spent together. Absence, Jane firmly believed, made
the heart grow fonder—especially when it came to Mrs Mifford.
Unfortunately for Jane, the marriage of her elder sister Mary to the
Duke of Northcott had left a position vacant by Mrs Mifford’s side, and she
was determined that Jane would fill it.
“Where are you off to?” Mrs Mifford questioned, as Jane—having
finished helping Nora, the maid of all work, in the kitchen—made her way
downstairs after fetching her pelisse.
“For a walk,” Jane answered, as she shrugged the ankle-length coat
on over her walking dress.
Mrs Mifford cast a despairing eye over Jane, her green eyes coming
to rest on the hem of her skirts which were, for once, pristine. Jane, as well
as being a prolific reader, was also a prolific walker. The activity did much
for her constitution but little for the hems of her skirts and petticoats, which
were often stained with mud.
“I rather think that you would be better suited to spending the
afternoon here with me,” Mrs Mifford decided, forcing a smile so that her
offer might look more inviting. “Mary dropped over the latest issue of the
Belle Assemblée before she left for town; I do know how much you love to
read.”
“I love to read books, Mama,” Jane countered, not for a moment
fooled that her mother was interested in any of the periodical’s articles, “Not
periodicals filled with fashion plates.”
Mrs Mifford gave a moue of distaste at Jane’s objection and she
would have argued against it, had the arrival of her younger sister, Emily,
not offered a distraction.
“Emily will sit and read with you,” Jane said firmly, unable to look
her younger sister in the eye as she offered her up as a sacrifice to appease
the Mifford matriarch.
“What’s that?”
As ever, Emily, who lived somewhere between their village of
Plumpton and the cloudy blue sky, did not quite catch the gist of the
conversation on her first attempt.
“I was saying,” Jane said, patiently, “That you would be happy to sit
with Mama in the parlour and read.”
“Oh, no, I really wouldn’t,” Emily, whose social nous did not stretch
to knowing that occasionally it was necessary to tell white-lies, answered
honestly, “Gosh, there’s nothing I’d like to do less.”
Jane placed a hand to her brow; Emily was the sweetest and softest
of her three sisters, but her softness quite often affected the matter between
her ears. Thanks to her blunt opine, Jane might yet be forced to spend the
afternoon with her mother in order to soothe her battered ego.
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