The Curious Rogue by Joan Vincent Page A

his words carefully. “That is most generous, my lord. There is one minor detail which we must attend to first, however.
    “Elizabeth has spent the majority of her life in Folkestone, living in a very quiet manner. She has been properly educated and will prove a most acceptable hostess, skilled in all the social affairs,” he hastened to assure the comte. “But since she has been so sheltered, she is of a retiring nature and is naturally sensitive, showing, of course, that she is of genteel quality.
    “It will therefore, I think, be most wise if there be a period of courtship—a time in which you may both come to know each other better. In this way Elizabeth’s shyness can be naturally overcome.”
    “Miss Jeffries does not wish to wed me?” Cavilon drawled with a hint of offence in his voice.
    “Oh, no. No,” Sir Henry blustered. “While Elizabeth is not a... is not just from the schoolroom, she is rather green in the area of... of men. Well, I am certain you understand,” he ended hopefully.
    “This courtship you propose, how long is it to be?” Cavilon rapped his chin contemplatively.
    “Could we say three months?”
    “I have no objections.” The comte rose and placed a limp hand in Sir Henry’s outstretched palm. “I wish to see Elizabeth now.”
    “Mayhaps you could dine with us this eve? My niece has gone shopping,” Sir Jeffries explained.
    “With Lady Waddington?”
    “I believe she took her abigail.”
    “Then I must be content to see her this eve. We shall conclude the business portion of the marriage when the wedding date is named, n’est-ce pas ?”
    “That will do very well, my lord. I shall see you to the door.”
    The two men discussed the present state of the war as they walked through the corridor. Coming into the main entry, they saw a young woman on the upper landing.
    “Why Spense, has Miss Jeffries stayed at home?”
    The abigail bobbed a quick curtsy. “No, sir. She said she was going out for but a short time.”
    “Then Lady Madeline accompanied her,” Sir Henry assured Cavilon.
    “Oh, no sir. Miss Jeffries went alone.” Martha offered. “She said she wanted to think some matters through.”
    “Do you know her direction?” Cavilon questioned without bothering to look at the young woman.
    “Miss has shown a preference for St. James’s Park, my lord.”
    “ Merci . I shall go there at once, Sir Henry. It shall not do to have my future bride seen unchaperoned. I trust that in the future she will not go about unattended,” the comte stated as he carefully arranged his lace scarf.
    “Of course not, my lord,” Sir Henry quickly assured him.
    “My wife must be most proper in all matters, at all times,” Cavilon admonished, his voice rising. With a flutter of his hand, he withdrew.
    “It will take a miracle,” Sir Henry muttered mopping his brow, “if this match is achieved.”
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    The brilliant sunshine and May fragrance of green grass and blooming flowers did little to cheer Elizabeth as she sat upon a bench in St. James’s Park.
    Why, she thought, does my mind keep turning back to the rogue? I know nothing of him. I would not even recognize him and yet he comes unbidden into my thoughts each day. You are too old far such foolishness, she scolded. She read herself a sermon, reciting the catechism of reasons Aunt Waddie and Uncle Henry were certain to batter her with in regard to the comte.
    Cavilon, she mused. Even he had moved her, if only for a moment on the eve just past. Was there something wrong with her that her heart could be tugged about?
    You cannot despise a man and love him, she admonished.
    You cannot love a man you know nothing about, her subconscious responded.
    Elizabeth sighed heavily. Her only hope was that Cavilon would reconsider and find her unattractive, if not distasteful, when viewed as a prospective bride.
    Rising, Elizabeth began to walk. Her thoughts dwelt on what she might do to dissuade the comte without severely