Lady Dearing's Masquerade Read Online Free Page A

corpses bobbing in the Thames.
    “This place was founded over fifty years ago,” continued Bromhurst, “and still the infants keep coming. People grow cynical; many say first causes must be addressed. Funds that might have come to us now go to societies for the reformation of prostitutes.”
    “The majority of women who bring their children here are not prostitutes,” Jeremy protested. More often, they were lowly servant-girls, imposed on by fellow servants or employers, wretched creatures who liked to think of themselves as rakes. Jeremy knew better words for men who abandoned the young women they’d gotten into trouble.
    “Of course,” Bromhurst replied. “But until society is in a better state, what can we do but provide for the poor innocents?” He turned an intent gaze on Jeremy. “The branch hospital scheme depends on you . You have the reputation, the eloquence, the looks, the voice—”
    “That is ridic—” Jeremy interrupted.
    “Yes,” Bromhurst went on, “the looks and the voice to coax the ladies into loosening their purse strings on behalf of the foundlings. And gentlemen respect and trust you. With such talents, you should be in Parliament!”
    “The Whigs have approached me on several occasions,” he replied in what he knew was a vain attempt to divert Bromhurst.
    “What I’m trying to say is that you of all people must know what it takes to persuade people that caring for these children does not encourage immorality. If you wish this project to succeed, you must keep your own reputation spotless.”
    Jeremy frowned. “Are you withdrawing your approval to my plan to visit Rosemead?”
    Bromhurst’s mouth tightened. “I don’t know why you are so set on it. Cecilia has been dead for over four years. It grieves me to see you still mourning her.”
    “I do not suffer.”
    His friend raised bristling eyebrows. “If you wish for children, why not just marry again and set up your own nursery?”
    “I have an heir.”
    “Yes, I know, your cousin Thomas. But he is well provided for, and I’m sure he would be more than happy to be cut out.”
    Jeremy could not deny it.
    “Lady Bromhurst and I would be delighted to see you with children of your own. You know no one was more saddened during your . . . disappointments.”
    Disappointments. A damned empty, weak word for the ordeals Cecilia had endured, while he suffered alongside, powerless to help her. He thrust back a spurt of unholy anger along with the memories.
    “Your sympathies meant a great deal to us,” he replied.
    “It is time to move on, lad,” said Bromhurst gruffly. “You are still a young man and—”
    “I am five-and-thirty.”
    “A mere lad! I’m sure half the young misses at Almack’s would jump at the chance to be the next Lady Fairhill. You need to go about in society more.”
    “I have done so, and met no one I wished to marry.”
    “For just one paltry Season, it must be two years ago now! Since then many pretty and amiable girls have come upon the Marriage Mart.”
    Jeremy remained silent. Useless to admit that he wanted none of the amiable misses thrown his way by Lady Bromhurst or Aunt Louisa. That since Cecilia’s death there was only one lady for whom he’d felt more than a fleeting attraction.
    And he’d frightened her off.
    “You are too particular,” continued Bromhurst. “You cannot expect to find another such wife as Cecilia. You set too high a standard.”
    I do not wish for another like Cecilia. Jeremy bit the words back. Everyone thought Cecilia a saint. They were right, and it would be disloyal to her memory to reveal that he did not wish to marry another saint.
    Nor could he confide to anyone that the lady he’d sought during that one Season was a spirited but foolhardy innocent with a ravishing figure and enchanting dimples. One who bore an oddly shaped birthmark on her left breast and made sweet, whimpering noises when kissed.
    Who had run away from him.
    “No,” he said at length.