.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ asked her to dance.

      Never escorted her to supper.

      And that had suited her—even then—perfectly. She had seen little of him in the intervening years but she might have guessed Stanton would be amongst the guests at Cousin Leo’s house party. They were close friends.

      His chest expanded as he hauled in a breath, his chocolate-brown eyes regarding her with apology but no hint of recognition.

      ‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice was a rich baritone. ‘I’m aware I am a little late, but I did not think anyone would be coming downstairs for dinner quite yet.’

      He swept long fingers through his hair then climbed the remaining stairs to Felicity’s level. Up close, he smelled of rain and horses and leather...and very male. Felicity stepped back involuntarily. His lips twitched.

      ‘I apologize for my unkempt appearance. I was drenched coming up from the stables and I left my coat downstairs, where it might drip with impunity.’ He sketched a bow. ‘Stanton, Miss...?’

      A craven impulse to proffer a false name was swiftly quashed. Much good that would do her if they were to spend the weekend at the same gathering. Besides, Felicity was in no mind to turn into a simpering miss over an attractive gentleman in his shirtsleeves. Her gaze lowered without volition, drinking in the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of those arms. She raised her eyes to his, and caught his expression of wry amusement.

      She straightened, lifting her chin. Arrogant wretch. She would do well to remember arrogance was a trait that often went hand in hand with wealth, status and a handsome face.

      ‘Felicity Weston, my lord.’

      She was unsurprised by his perplexed frown. She attended society events rarely now and knew she had faded from memory. She had become accustomed to such a reaction upon introduction and it no longer embarrassed or hurt her, it simply was. People inevitably struggled to place her within the Weston family, not quite believing she was so closely related to her handsome parents and siblings.

      Her sense of the ridiculous bubbled to the surface, prompting her to bestow a kindly smile upon his lordship.

      ‘It is a thankless task, I fear, to try and second-guess my position within the Weston clan. Allow me to enlighten you: I am the sister of Ambrose, Earl of Baverstock.’

       ‘Sister?’

      ‘I am afraid so. Quite shocking, is it not?’

      ‘Not at all,’ came the swift rejoinder. ‘My apologies for my shocking lapse in memory.’

      ‘Oh, I do not take offence, I can assure you. Yours is a reaction I am quite accustomed to. Indeed, I believe I should almost miss it if I failed to provoke such a response. For otherwise, you see, I might be quite overlooked.’

      Stanton held Felicity’s gaze in silence, then his eyes narrowed. ‘You are—’

      ‘Unbecomingly frank?’ Felicity tilted her head and raised her brows.

      ‘Frank, yes. Unbecoming?’ He stepped closer, his gaze locked on to hers. His voice deepened. ‘Hmmm. Unusual, perhaps.’

      Felicity battled her instinct to retreat, ignoring the flutter deep in her belly, knowing this kind of intimate verbal sparring was a game to men like Lord Stanton.

      ‘I shall accept that as a compliment, my lord. After all, one would not wish to be considered in the common way.’

      His eyes crinkled as he laughed. ‘No, indeed, Lady Felicity. No doubt I shall see you later, when I am more appropriately attired. My apologies once again for my appearance.’

      ‘Unnecessary, I assure you, although...it did cross my mind to wonder...’

      He raised one dark brow.

      ‘...is it the new mode for gentlemen to dispense with neckcloths? I am quite out of touch, I fear. And also—’ she added quickly as his mouth opened, ‘—is the rolled-up sleeve now quite the thing? Or might they both, perhaps, be an affectation restricted to sporting gentlemen, much like the Belcher neckerchief?’

      Stanton’s lips firmed. For a split second, Felicity feared she might have prodded his lordship too far. After all, many men did not take kindly to being teased, but then she recognized the glint in his—quite beautiful, now she came to think about it—velvety-brown eyes. A muscle in his jaw bunched, then he threw his head back and laughed. Felicity’s gaze snapped to the dark curls exposed by the open neck of his shirt. An involuntary shiver trembled through her.

      ‘I shall add incorrigible to unusual, Lady Felicity. If you wish to know why I am more déshabillé than the mere removal of my coat might indicate, why not ask?’

      ‘Sir!’ Felicity raised the back of one hand to her forehead in mock horror. ‘How could you suggest such a thing? It would be most improper for a lady to quiz a gentleman she barely knows about his activities.’

      ‘Indeed it would. However, as you have made so bold as to raise the subject, I shall enlighten you. I was assisting my groom in the stables with a poultice.’

      Felicity sobered. ‘One of your horses is lame? I am sorry to hear it. I hope he will soon recover.’

      Stanton smiled. ‘Thank you. It is merely a precaution. I am sure there is no cause for alarm.’ He bowed. ‘My apologies once again, Lady Felicity.’

      ‘That is quite all right, Lord Stanton, you were not to know I would have the audacity to appear before the allotted time for dinner. You may rest assured your lapse in standards will not become public knowledge.’

      Felicity bent a gracious smile upon his lordship and then sailed down the stairs, her head high. One thing she had learned during her brief sorties into polite society was to do the unexpected and, always, to walk away first. That way, she was never the one left standing, open-mouthed.

       Chapter One

      Late August 1811—Bath

      ‘Mama, I should like you to arrange a marriage for me.’

      Felicity held her breath as she leant back against the solid strength of her mother’s sitting-room door. Lady Katherine Farlowe reclined upon a rose-coloured sofa, clad in a pale pink chiffon robe trimmed with swansdown. Her already huge blue eyes widened as she stared at her only surviving daughter.

      ‘Oh, my darling girl. I am so happy for you.’ Lady Katherine arose elegantly and wafted across the room to Felicity. ‘Who is the lucky man?’

      Felicity braced herself as her mother enveloped her in a scented embrace. ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was muffled against her mother’s breast; the swansdown tickled her nose. ‘That is why I am asking you to arrange it.’

      Lady Katherine released Felicity and stepped back, a frown creasing her soft white skin. ‘But...I do not understand. Why? What about love? Do you not want to be happy in your marriage?’

      Felicity СКАЧАТЬ