Lady Dearing's Masquerade Read Online Free Page B
Author: Elena Greene
“I have no such standards, sir. The fact is that I have no desire to remarry.”
He’d inquired at costume warehouses, searched for her at balls and routs, even investigated the gossip in the aftermath of the masquerade. But all he’d discovered were the usual veiled references to the tawdry intrigues of Lord This and Lady That. Nothing about anyone who sounded like him or the ingénue he’d frightened with his ardor.
He’d never found her, never been able to apologize or make matters right.
“If you married, you could more easily pursue your plan regarding Mary Simms. You heard what Sir Digby said.”
“Sir Digby Pettleworth is an ass.”
“No doubt about it. He would not be on the Committee if he were not Tobias Cranshaw’s son-in-law. But still I do not wish gossip to link your name with Lady Dearing’s.”
“Do you think I would risk it? I’m sure Sir Digby vastly overrates her charms.”
“She is quite lovely,” said Bromhurst, rubbing his nose again. “But after a marriage such as yours I cannot imagine you would succumb to temptation.”
“I shall not succumb. Least of all to the overripe charms of a notorious widow.”
“What worries me, lad, is what you are risking by this.”
“Do you think I am being selfish to want to fulfill Cecilia’s dying wish?”
Bromhurst averted his face for a moment. “No, but it’s taken all of four years for you to sort it out. You told me yourself that she had been given a great deal of laudanum at the end. How can you be certain what she meant?”
Jeremy stared back across the lawn toward the sight of playing children. Healthy limbs. Strong lungs. Smiling faces. A wrong made right. Hope.
“I am certain.”
“Well then, I wish you good luck. But I beg you, be discreet. And be careful!”
“Have you ever known me to be otherwise?”
The furrows remained in Bromhurst’s forehead.
Jeremy shrugged. In time Bromhurst would realize what Jeremy already knew: that he was beyond the age of foolish indiscretions, if not—God help him!—beyond feeling desire. But he’d spent most of his life mastering his passions; his disastrous lapse three years ago would be his last.
Chapter 2
“Ten thousand pounds? Adolphus, I am so disappointed. I did not think you would jest with me in this manner!”
Livvy smiled sweetly across her tea at her husband’s nephew and heir. Adolphus, seventh Baron Dearing, had never impressed her with his intelligence. In this, as well as his light brown hair and the regular contours of his face, he resembled her deceased husband, though Adolphus lacked Walter’s athletic physique. And unlike Walter, he was no worse than an annoyance.
“It is not a jest. I am entirely serious, dear aunt.” He leaned forward, the diamond pin in his cravat catching the light. “I realize it must seem quite a vast sum to you. Just imagine the style of living it would afford you, perhaps in Greece or Italy.”
The fool smiled. As if she could be so gullible!
“Ten thousand pounds, to give up my jointure and leave England? Paltry, my dear nephew.”
His jaw dropped. “Paltry?”
“Paltry. You are well aware that my jointure provides me two thousand a year. I trust you are not expecting that I will die within the next five years?”
“No, of—of course not,” Adolphus blustered.
“Allow me to reassure you that I intend to live a very long and very happy life,” she said consolingly.
Adolphus gulped. “But Sophronia and I cannot help but wonder if you might be happier in Rome or Greece. You cannot enjoy your present position in English society.”
“I am quite resigned to my lot.”
“You cannot mean that. You are not received anywhere!”
Livvy nearly giggled at her nephew’s thunderstruck expression. He and Sophronia could imagine no worse fate than social ostracism. But painful as the scandal following the masquerade had been, she had come to learn that a reputation ruined beyond repair—along with a fine estate and a
He’d inquired at costume warehouses, searched for her at balls and routs, even investigated the gossip in the aftermath of the masquerade. But all he’d discovered were the usual veiled references to the tawdry intrigues of Lord This and Lady That. Nothing about anyone who sounded like him or the ingénue he’d frightened with his ardor.
He’d never found her, never been able to apologize or make matters right.
“If you married, you could more easily pursue your plan regarding Mary Simms. You heard what Sir Digby said.”
“Sir Digby Pettleworth is an ass.”
“No doubt about it. He would not be on the Committee if he were not Tobias Cranshaw’s son-in-law. But still I do not wish gossip to link your name with Lady Dearing’s.”
“Do you think I would risk it? I’m sure Sir Digby vastly overrates her charms.”
“She is quite lovely,” said Bromhurst, rubbing his nose again. “But after a marriage such as yours I cannot imagine you would succumb to temptation.”
“I shall not succumb. Least of all to the overripe charms of a notorious widow.”
“What worries me, lad, is what you are risking by this.”
“Do you think I am being selfish to want to fulfill Cecilia’s dying wish?”
Bromhurst averted his face for a moment. “No, but it’s taken all of four years for you to sort it out. You told me yourself that she had been given a great deal of laudanum at the end. How can you be certain what she meant?”
Jeremy stared back across the lawn toward the sight of playing children. Healthy limbs. Strong lungs. Smiling faces. A wrong made right. Hope.
“I am certain.”
“Well then, I wish you good luck. But I beg you, be discreet. And be careful!”
“Have you ever known me to be otherwise?”
The furrows remained in Bromhurst’s forehead.
Jeremy shrugged. In time Bromhurst would realize what Jeremy already knew: that he was beyond the age of foolish indiscretions, if not—God help him!—beyond feeling desire. But he’d spent most of his life mastering his passions; his disastrous lapse three years ago would be his last.
Chapter 2
“Ten thousand pounds? Adolphus, I am so disappointed. I did not think you would jest with me in this manner!”
Livvy smiled sweetly across her tea at her husband’s nephew and heir. Adolphus, seventh Baron Dearing, had never impressed her with his intelligence. In this, as well as his light brown hair and the regular contours of his face, he resembled her deceased husband, though Adolphus lacked Walter’s athletic physique. And unlike Walter, he was no worse than an annoyance.
“It is not a jest. I am entirely serious, dear aunt.” He leaned forward, the diamond pin in his cravat catching the light. “I realize it must seem quite a vast sum to you. Just imagine the style of living it would afford you, perhaps in Greece or Italy.”
The fool smiled. As if she could be so gullible!
“Ten thousand pounds, to give up my jointure and leave England? Paltry, my dear nephew.”
His jaw dropped. “Paltry?”
“Paltry. You are well aware that my jointure provides me two thousand a year. I trust you are not expecting that I will die within the next five years?”
“No, of—of course not,” Adolphus blustered.
“Allow me to reassure you that I intend to live a very long and very happy life,” she said consolingly.
Adolphus gulped. “But Sophronia and I cannot help but wonder if you might be happier in Rome or Greece. You cannot enjoy your present position in English society.”
“I am quite resigned to my lot.”
“You cannot mean that. You are not received anywhere!”
Livvy nearly giggled at her nephew’s thunderstruck expression. He and Sophronia could imagine no worse fate than social ostracism. But painful as the scandal following the masquerade had been, she had come to learn that a reputation ruined beyond repair—along with a fine estate and a