The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Rhonda Woodward
notion of a destination. The day was glorious and warm, reminding him of that other glorious spring day, last year in London.
When
she
had stepped out of the shop, the sun shining on her exquisite face, he had stopped dead on the sidewalk. It was odd how now, almost one year later, he could still recall certain aspects of the scene without any difficulty.
He remembered that she was very tall, that her expressive eyes were a clear, true gray, and that she wore a gray gown. That gray gown and the fact that she appeared to be unattended caused him to conclude that the Beauty was probably some poor abigail on an errand.
He realized that everything in his well-ordered world had changed that day. At first, he was not aware that the event had had any effect upon him. He had waited for everything to return to normal—but it had not. Town had palled quickly, and he had returned to Kelbourne Keep, his principal seat, well before the Season was over.
Leaving the lush formality of his garden, he walked over an ornamental stone bridge and entered the extensive, rolling parkland with the vague notion of going to the lake some distance away.
It had taken until last Christmas to realize that he was feeling an emotion he could not recall having experienced since childhood. Shame.
He clearly recalled the moment this realization came to him. The entire extended Wenlock family had been enjoying a festive Christmas dinner. Halfway through the meal, something in the way Emmaline,his older sister, smiled had caught his attention. Her pleased expression had reminded him of the Beauty.
The thought that followed had hit him like a blow to the chest. How would he feel if a man had treated his sister the way he had treated that young woman on the street that day?
For the previous seven months he had tried to keep this realization at bay by telling himself that his only intention had been an innocent kiss to honor Dame Fortune. But on Christmas day, as he sat at the head of his table with his family around him, a deep shame washed over him.
He was a gentleman not only by birth and rank, but also by the teachings and examples of his own father and mother. At his dinner table that day, with his family completely unaware of his inner turmoil, he finally owned that accosting the young woman, even for an
innocent
kiss, had been beneath him as a gentleman.
Though the long-denied emotion still stung, he had felt a little better for accepting that he had done wrong. But this new self-awareness had only gone so far to assuage the deadly mood that had been his companion for nigh on a year.
He reached the lake and, with a pleasant sense of fatigue, decided to remove his coat and rest on a massive boulder at the water’s edge. Though the boulder appeared upon the land as if placed there by nature, it, like the lake, had been designed by his landscape architect, Humphrey Repton. Kel was very satisfied with the change in the terrain, and it had solved some of the flooding problems another part of the estate had been experiencing for generations.
Tossing his walking stick aside, he drew one booted foot up onto the boulder, and rested his forearm upon his knee. Maybe Emmaline and Mamanwere right—they were always after him to marry and plan for the next generation.
After all, he would be thirty in August. Was marriage the answer? he wondered. Maybe it was—he certainly had the perfect wife in mind. Maman had long ago chosen Lady Davinia Harwich to be his future bride.
Lord Harwich’s land, a sizable estate, marched with the Keep. The earl had made it clear that he had no issue with dowering his estate to his only daughter, as the title and other property were entailed to his nephew.
Marriage to the elegant Davinia had always been in the back of Kel’s mind, but it now seemed like something he should bring to the forefront.
Besides, Kelbourne Keep needed a mistress, he thought, warming to the idea.
He watched the swans feeding on the placid lake for
When
she
had stepped out of the shop, the sun shining on her exquisite face, he had stopped dead on the sidewalk. It was odd how now, almost one year later, he could still recall certain aspects of the scene without any difficulty.
He remembered that she was very tall, that her expressive eyes were a clear, true gray, and that she wore a gray gown. That gray gown and the fact that she appeared to be unattended caused him to conclude that the Beauty was probably some poor abigail on an errand.
He realized that everything in his well-ordered world had changed that day. At first, he was not aware that the event had had any effect upon him. He had waited for everything to return to normal—but it had not. Town had palled quickly, and he had returned to Kelbourne Keep, his principal seat, well before the Season was over.
Leaving the lush formality of his garden, he walked over an ornamental stone bridge and entered the extensive, rolling parkland with the vague notion of going to the lake some distance away.
It had taken until last Christmas to realize that he was feeling an emotion he could not recall having experienced since childhood. Shame.
He clearly recalled the moment this realization came to him. The entire extended Wenlock family had been enjoying a festive Christmas dinner. Halfway through the meal, something in the way Emmaline,his older sister, smiled had caught his attention. Her pleased expression had reminded him of the Beauty.
The thought that followed had hit him like a blow to the chest. How would he feel if a man had treated his sister the way he had treated that young woman on the street that day?
For the previous seven months he had tried to keep this realization at bay by telling himself that his only intention had been an innocent kiss to honor Dame Fortune. But on Christmas day, as he sat at the head of his table with his family around him, a deep shame washed over him.
He was a gentleman not only by birth and rank, but also by the teachings and examples of his own father and mother. At his dinner table that day, with his family completely unaware of his inner turmoil, he finally owned that accosting the young woman, even for an
innocent
kiss, had been beneath him as a gentleman.
Though the long-denied emotion still stung, he had felt a little better for accepting that he had done wrong. But this new self-awareness had only gone so far to assuage the deadly mood that had been his companion for nigh on a year.
He reached the lake and, with a pleasant sense of fatigue, decided to remove his coat and rest on a massive boulder at the water’s edge. Though the boulder appeared upon the land as if placed there by nature, it, like the lake, had been designed by his landscape architect, Humphrey Repton. Kel was very satisfied with the change in the terrain, and it had solved some of the flooding problems another part of the estate had been experiencing for generations.
Tossing his walking stick aside, he drew one booted foot up onto the boulder, and rested his forearm upon his knee. Maybe Emmaline and Mamanwere right—they were always after him to marry and plan for the next generation.
After all, he would be thirty in August. Was marriage the answer? he wondered. Maybe it was—he certainly had the perfect wife in mind. Maman had long ago chosen Lady Davinia Harwich to be his future bride.
Lord Harwich’s land, a sizable estate, marched with the Keep. The earl had made it clear that he had no issue with dowering his estate to his only daughter, as the title and other property were entailed to his nephew.
Marriage to the elegant Davinia had always been in the back of Kel’s mind, but it now seemed like something he should bring to the forefront.
Besides, Kelbourne Keep needed a mistress, he thought, warming to the idea.
He watched the swans feeding on the placid lake for
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