A Marriage Deal With The Viscount. Bronwyn Scott

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ after he’d spent three months in pursuit and learned the truth of her. It would likely be the same with La Marchesa, given enough time, but for tonight he wanted to enjoy the illusion of perfection wrapped in sky-blue silk and perhaps she wanted to enjoy the illusion of him. Lord knew he wasn’t perfect, not once one got past the handsome exterior.

      The Cowden gardens were well-lit against anyone falling prey to the inherent temptations of a honeymoon ball, but due to the earliness yet of the evening, the gardens were relatively empty. Conall had them—and Sofia—nearly to himself. ‘Are you packed for tomorrow?’ he asked as they strolled, making small talk of their impending trip to Somerset in the morning.

      ‘Yes.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘The Treshams will be robbed of all their company at once, I fear. Ferris and Anne will leave in the morning, too, as will Helena. She can’t stand to be away from her boys for too long, although Frederick plans to stay a while longer.’ They were doing it, the classic trend of small talk between acquaintances who were neither strangers nor friends; talking of mutually held acquaintances so they didn’t have to talk of themselves. They could talk all night in this manner and never once speak of themselves in any meaningful way.

      ‘And what will you miss? Unlike the rest of us, you are not going home tomorrow. You are being dragged away on business,’ Conall reminded her in an attempt to redirect the trajectory of the conversation. Tonight, under the moonlight and paper lanterns, he was hungry for a connection based on something more than acquaintance. He wanted something more for them than unpacking their friendship with Brixton and Helena.

      She paused thoughtfully. ‘I’ll miss my projects. I help at an orphanage and do some teaching for them. Just little things like basic reading and numbers.’ But it wasn’t little to her, Conall thought, noting the soft smile that took her mouth when she spoke of it. She found meaning and purpose in it. It spoke of a kind soul and Conall thought once more of the inner well of her beauty. The Marchesa was becoming quite a paragon.

      Conall tried one more time to learn something uniquely personal about her. ‘You must miss Italy, Marchesa.’ The enquiry was a misstep.

      She fixed him with a hard, polite smile. ‘No, my lord, I do not miss Italy at all. In fact, I try not to think about it.’ She was daring him to ask the next question. So intuitive was it, that it was already framing itself in his mind: And your husband? Certainly you must miss him? Conall tamped down hard on the temptation. Tonight was for enjoying illusions, not truths. There’d be time enough for truths in Somerset, for both of them. She was not the only one being careful.

      Conall retreated, withdrawing his conversation to safer ground. ‘I’ve never been to Italy, so I have nothing to compare it to, but I’ve heard the weather is temperate, much nicer than here, and the food is delicious.’

      ‘We lived in Piedmont, in the north-west, surrounded by lakes and the Alps. It was hardly anything like Rome or Florence. The climate would surprise you, I think.’ Conall recognised a bone when he was tossed one and that was what this was—a brief look into her life, albeit a very safe, very narrow slice. It was her way of saying thank you for the retreat, for understanding she didn’t want to disclose any more.

      ‘Shall we go back in?’ Conall offered as they turned at the end of the gardens. If they were gone too long, Helena would think her matchmaking efforts were successful.

      ‘Yes, I suppose we should.’ But she sounded reluctant. ‘We wouldn’t want to give Helena any encouragement.’ She smiled, luminous and radiant without trying.

      Conall laughed. ‘Those were my thoughts exactly.’ The garden was filling with couples now, the first foray of dancing over, and people were heated, except for the frosty glares women shot Sofia’s way. Some of the men nodded to Conall and stopped to exchange a few short words, but he saw the speculation rife in their eyes. That speculation asked the same question: did he mean to try his luck with her now that Wenderly had failed? He knew Sofia saw it, too. She was tense beside him, her laughter gone, her luminescence shuttered.

      ‘Perhaps a walk on the terrace?’ Conall offered, sensing her reticence to return inside where the gossip was bound to be worse.

      ‘I shouldn’t keep you.’ He felt her hand start to pull away from his arm and he trapped it with his other hand. He would not let her slip away this time as she had at the wedding.

      ‘I am in no hurry.’

      ‘You will be missed,’ she protested, raising an eyebrow to indicate by whom as a pair of young girls passed, their eyes on Conall and then narrowing at the sight of her.

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4QAYRXhpZgAASUkqAAgAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP/sABFEdWNreQABAAQAAABQAAD/4QQHaHR0cDov L25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wLwA8P3hwYWNrZXQgYmVnaW49Iu+7vyIgaWQ9Ilc1TTBNcENl aGlIenJlU3pOVGN6a2M5ZCI/PiA8eDp4bXBtZXRhIHhtbG5zOng9ImFkb2JlOm5zOm1ldGEvIiB4 OnhtcHRrPSJBZG9iZSBYTVAgQ29yZSA1LjAtYzA2MSA2NC4xNDA5NDksIDIwMTAvMTIvMDctMTA6 NTc6MDEgICAgICAgICI+IDxyZGY6UkRGIHhtbG5zOnJkZj0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMTk5 OS8wMi8yMi1yZGYtc3ludGF4LW5zIyI+IDxyZGY6RGVzY3JpcHRpb24gcmRmOmFib3V0PSIiIHht bG5zOnhtcE1NPSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvbW0vIiB4bWxuczpzdFJlZj0i aHR0cDovL25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wL3NUeXBlL1Jlc291cmNlUmVmIyIgeG1sbnM6eG1w PSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvIiB4bWxuczpkYz0iaHR0cDovL3B1cmwub3Jn L2RjL2VsZW1lbnRzLzEuMS8iIHhtcE1NOk9yaWdpbmFsRG9jdW1lbnRJRD0idXVpZDpiYmFlNjVm Zi1mMTQwLTY0NDQtODIxNC1lNDNkOWFiYzFjMTgiIHhtcE1NOkRvY3VtZW50SUQ9InhtcC5kaWQ6 RUIwOTkwMEU5OEJGMTFFOEJBQUM5Nzk3OTg5NEFGMkMiIHhtcE1NOkluc3RhbmNlSUQ9InhtcC5p aWQ6RUIwOTkwMEQ5OEJGMTFFOEJBQUM5Nzk3OTg5NEFGMkMiIHhtcDpDcmVhdG9yVG9vbD0iQWRv YmUgUGhvdG9zaG9wIENTNS4xIE1hY2ludG9zaCI+IDx4bXBNTTpEZXJpdmVkRnJvbSBzdFJlZjpp bnN0YW5jZUlEPSJ4bXAuaWlkOkYyQjQ5OTc4RkQyMDY4MTE5N0E1QUNEMTQ5QTI5MjM0IiBzdFJl Zjpkb2N1bWVudElEPSJ1dWlkOmJiYWU2NWZmLWYxNDAtNjQ0NC04MjE0LWU0M2Q5YWJjMWMxOCIv PiA8ZGM6dGl0bGU+IDxyZGY6QWx0PiA8cmRmOmxpIHhtbDpsYW5nPSJ4LWRlZmF1bHQiPkhpc3Rv cmljYWxfSkFOMTkuaW5kZDwvcmRmOmxpPiA8L3JkZjpBbHQ+IDwvZGM6dGl0bGU+IDwvcmRmOkRl c2NyaXB0aW9uPiA8L3JkZjpSREY+IDwveDp4bXBtZXRhPiA8P3hwYWNrZXQgZW5kPSJyIj8+/+0A SFBob3Rvc2hvcCAzLjAAOEJJTQQEAAAAAAAPHAFaAAMbJUccAgAAAgACADhCSU0EJQAAAAAAEPzh H4nIt8l4LzRiNAdYd+v/4gxYSUNDX1BST0ZJTEUAAQEAAAxITGlubwIQAABtbnRyUkdCIFhZWiAH zgACAAkABgAxAABhY3NwTVNGVAAAAABJRUMgc1JHQgAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAQAA9tYAAQAAAADTLUhQ ICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABFjcHJ0AAAB UAAAADNkZXNjAAABhAAAAGx3dHB0AAAB8AAAABRia3B0AAACBAAAABRyWFlaAAACGAAAABRnWFla AAACLAAAABRiWFlaAAACQAAAABRkbW5kAAACVAAAAHBkbWRkAAACxAAAAIh2dWVkAAADTAAAA

СКАЧАТЬ