The Discerning Gentleman's Guide. Virginia Heath

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СКАЧАТЬ perhaps he was not completely devoid of all emotion—he did irritation very well. He had not been even slightly grateful that she had tried to help him and had been highly critical of the fact that he had almost tripped over her. And then, even after she had swallowed a great deal of her pride, at Lady Worsted’s insistence, and apologised to him for her forthrightness, he had looked at her as if she were nothing but a great inconvenience to him. Then he had stomped off without so much as a by-your-leave. She had never met a man so full of his own importance in her entire life!

      * * *

      Bennett had not had a good day. The debate had been a farce. The majority of those who had taken part had been more determined to shout louder than the next person than to listen to reason. There had been no time for his speech, which was probably a blessed relief because the House had deteriorated into more of a mob than a gathering of educated gentlemen. On days like this, it was a wonder that they ever got any laws passed at all. His head still hurt from all of the noise.

      And his feet still hurt because of his unfortunate choice of footwear yesterday. Worse, he was also sporting an impressive swollen bump on his head, which had inspired Lord Liverpool to stare at it and laugh. It was difficult to be taken seriously as a politician when your forehead was protruding and purple. To add insult to injury, a drover’s cart had lost a wheel in the middle of Piccadilly, plunging the early-evening travellers into chaos. It had taken him over an hour already to navigate the mess, and it was getting colder by the second, but at least on horseback he was moving. If he had taken the carriage today as he usually did, he would still be sitting stationary somewhere much further back.

      He steered his mount towards the side of the road so that he could pick his way past all of the spilled wooden barrels blocking the road. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a young woman who was the spitting image of Miss Mansfield walking briskly along the pavement. He shook his head in annoyance. That woman really had dominated enough of his thoughts since last night, and his dreams too, if he was imagining her to be here.

      The problem was, he was still smarting from his incredibly stupid behaviour last night. He really did not know what had come over him. Well, he did, he supposed, if he was being honest with himself. His suppressed anger at her acidic comments over dinner combined with an unexpected dose of raw lust had churned his emotions up and rendered him incapable of normal conversation. Bennett really did not approve of emotions at the best of times and usually kept them all neatly contained inside himself as he had been taught. However, Miss Mansfield was uncommonly pretty. He would even go as far as to say she was the most attractive woman he had collided with in a long time. That, combined with her irritatingly forthright opinions, gentle, caring hands and kissable mouth had scrambled his senses and frazzled his normally sensible mind. Obviously, he had gone far too long without a woman. When was the last time?

      Months and months ago, he realised with a jolt. Perhaps just over a year. Good grief! It had been over a year. Since he’d started seriously searching for a wife. He had not expected it to take quite this long to select the right one. No wonder he had such vivid ideas about Miss Mansfield! That could be the only explanation to it all. Such errant thoughts were the very last thing he needed at the moment. There was far too much to do. He made a mental note to redouble his efforts and whittle down the Potential list to just one. Someone his father would have approved of. And he would begin at the Renshaw ball on Saturday night.

      Feeling intensely relieved to have sorted the problem out in his head, Bennett finally manoeuvred around the last of the barrels and was able to nudge his horse into a slow trot. Miss Mansfield’s scurrying twin was just ahead of him, hunched into her shawl against the bitter cold. As he came alongside, the woman turned her head towards him and he realised that he was not going mad at all.

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