A Match of Hearts: A Regency Romance Read Online Free Page A

her without her brother
present to play the host.
    Zanthe smiled at her sister-in-law.
‘Forgive me a moment, Margery. You go on up. I must thank Launceston for his
kindness.’
    ‘We are very much obliged to him,’
acknowledged Miss Brookenby. ‘I should have been so mortified if the
Cholmondeleys had been aware of the state Parry was in.’
    ‘I think Mr Cholmondeley did see, but he
said nothing. I liked him, didn’t you?’
    Margery flushed a rich purple and
nodded. ‘Very pleasant gentleman.’
    ‘He seemed to like you, too, I thought.’
    Her sister-in-law glanced up eagerly.
‘You think so?’
    ‘Goose! I have just said so.’ She gave
her a gentle little push. ‘Go away now. I shan’t be long.’
    The Viscount was standing by the window,
looking out over the haha to the countryside beyond. It was noon and, as the
sun was directly overhead, his face was in shadow. He looked in that dim light,
just as he had eight years earlier, thought Zanthe. His plentiful, black hair
fell over his forehead in a disorder that made her long to smooth it from his
brow; his dark eyes still glowed, she thought, with the passions that had at
once frightened and fascinated her. Then he turned into the light and, once
more, she was facing the man she had met in the Pump Room, his hair silvered at
the temples, lines of dissipation hardening his mouth, and deep, frowning
clefts between his eyebrows. He stood looking at her, and she watched his
expression change. He looked, she thought, like a man standing by the grave of
a loved one.
    She came forward, holding out her hand. He
bowed formally, and her hand dropped to her side. She said, with a slight
effort, ‘It seems that you are always standing by to come to my rescue. How can
I thank you?’
    ‘What, for playing nursemaid to that
young idiot? You need not.’
    ‘For that and for dealing with Mrs Weatherspoon.
Whatever did you say to her? It must have been most persuasive.’
    He laughed. ‘It is better that you
should not know, Lady Brookenby.’
    ‘Lady Brookenby? Why not Zanthe? That is
what you used to call me.’
    ‘I always thought it a very beautiful name.’
    ‘I make you free of it.’ She took a step
closer. ‘I remember other names—sweetheart—darling—beloved. Names no one else
has ever called me.’
    ‘Not Brookenby?’
    She laughed, but not as if she were
amused. ‘No, most decidedly not my husband! He never rose above a terse m’dear .’
    ‘Yet he loved you?’
    ‘Yes, at first, but his infatuation soon
burnt itself out. Then, I think, he was merely fond of me.’
    ‘Fond! Oh my God!’
    ‘I wanted nothing more—from him. Jarvis,
why do you look so—can we not—?’
    He shook his head. ‘My sweet, take my
word for it; there is no going back.’
    Her lip trembled. ‘No? Don’t you want
to?’
    ‘Want to!’ He turned from her abruptly,
to stand once more by the window. ‘Of course, I want to! What do you think it
means to me to be here with you, alone? Knowing I could take you in my arms and
there is no one, this time, to stop me from—’ He bit his lip and said in a
calmer tone, ‘But it won’t do, my darling. I never was fit to be your husband;
I knew that. But then, all those years ago, if you had accepted my offer, I
could have changed. I would have changed. But now? I doubt if there is a
single folly in the canon I have not committed since you married Brookenby. I
gambled my fortune away long since; what was left of it after I kept a
succession of— Well, never mind that—’
    Zanthe paid no heed at all to the last
part of this speech. She interrupted him now, saying, ‘Your offer?’
    He shook his head as though to clear it,
frowning. ‘What?’
    ‘You said, “if you had accepted my
offer.” What offer? You never made me an offer.’
    ‘Never made you an offer? Nonsense! Of
course, I did.’
    ‘No you didn’t. I think I should have
remembered if you had. Eight years isn’t that long.’
    ‘But—did your father not