The Romance by M. C. Beaton, Marion Chesney
Authors: M. C. Beaton, Marion Chesney
Tags: Romance, Historical
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direction. Perry noticed those glances too and his eyes narrowed with speculation. He wondered whether he might offer Mrs. Ingram a bribe to use her wiles on St. Clair and then decided against it. Everyone knew Mrs. Ingram was rich.
So they danced on, Belinda uncomfortably aware of the marquess, he of her, and St. Clair looking, always looking, to where Mrs. Ingram sat fanning herself.
Lord Gyre called for a waltz and asked Belinda to dance, and Lord St. Clair persuaded himself it would be only polite to talk to Mrs. Ingram.
‘Such a hot evening,’ said Mrs. Ingram languidly. ‘I have been looking out at the rose garden. I think I will leave you to your dancing and take a turn in the evening air.’
‘I would accompany you, dear lady,’ said Lord St. Clair gallantly, ‘but I cannot leave my guests.’
‘Why not?’ She tickled his nose with the feathered end of her fan.
‘S’pose I could,’ he said, feeling that odd quickening of the senses.
‘There is no need to make a fuss. We couldjust slip away for a little.’ Her large eyes flirted at him over the fan.
He had that heady feeling of being a rip, a slayer of ladies’ hearts. ‘I shall dance you to the door,’ he whispered.
No one but the ever-watchful Perry saw them go. Belinda, with Lord Gyre’s hand at her waist, was feeling quite dizzy with a whole series of new emotions. Lord Gyre noticed the heightened colour on her cheeks and decided it would be only fair to the girl to try to make her fall in love with him. She was too good for such as St. Clair.
Somehow, in the peace of the rose garden, Lord St. Clair found himself telling Mrs. Ingram all his woes, about being pressured into marriage, about never being able to please his father.
How warm and sweet the comforting darkness of the rose garden was, and how sympathetic was Mrs. Ingram. No one had ever listened to him like this before. As a crescent moon rose in the dark-blue sky above and a heady scent of roses surrounded them, he droned on about the beatings he had had from his tutor and his father, how he just wanted an easy life roistering around with his friends.
‘You will become tired of running around sooner or later,’ said Mrs. Ingram at last. ‘You will want a son. A fine young man like you should have someone in his own image.’
‘But marriage and all that…’ Lord St. Clairwaved a hand as if to encompass all the trials of wedding and wooing.
‘It might be easier than you think,’ cooed Mrs. Ingram. ‘You have great sensibility and that makes you worry too much. A companionable lady who understood you would be just the thing.’
Perry, who had noticed the couple were missing and had tracked them down to the rose garden, stood listening behind a bush. He rubbed his hands gleefully. Here was news at last for the earl. Mannerling was as good as his!
CHAPTER FOUR
A noble Lord, lately high in office, and who manifests a strong inclination to be reinstated in his political power, lost at the Union, a night or two back, 4,000 guineas before twelve o’clock; but continuing to play, his luck took a turn, and he rose a winner of a thousand before five the next morning
.
—MORNING HERALD, June 16, 1804
The following day, Lord Gyre rose early and, wrapped in a banan, made his way to the morning-room. He planned to spend a peaceful hour before anyone else was awake reading the newspapers. But when he pushed open the door of the morning room, he saw Belinda seated at the table, her head bent over a newspaper. Shewas wearing an old blue cotton gown and her hair had not been put up. Shining, black and curly, it lay on her shoulders.
He would have retreated, but she looked up and saw him, and said, ‘Good morning, my lord.’ Her eyes were wide and friendly. Once again he experienced that sharp feeling of pique that this beauty should be so apparently unaware of him as a man.
He sat down opposite her. ‘Anything of interest?’
She smiled. ‘Only things that enrage
So they danced on, Belinda uncomfortably aware of the marquess, he of her, and St. Clair looking, always looking, to where Mrs. Ingram sat fanning herself.
Lord Gyre called for a waltz and asked Belinda to dance, and Lord St. Clair persuaded himself it would be only polite to talk to Mrs. Ingram.
‘Such a hot evening,’ said Mrs. Ingram languidly. ‘I have been looking out at the rose garden. I think I will leave you to your dancing and take a turn in the evening air.’
‘I would accompany you, dear lady,’ said Lord St. Clair gallantly, ‘but I cannot leave my guests.’
‘Why not?’ She tickled his nose with the feathered end of her fan.
‘S’pose I could,’ he said, feeling that odd quickening of the senses.
‘There is no need to make a fuss. We couldjust slip away for a little.’ Her large eyes flirted at him over the fan.
He had that heady feeling of being a rip, a slayer of ladies’ hearts. ‘I shall dance you to the door,’ he whispered.
No one but the ever-watchful Perry saw them go. Belinda, with Lord Gyre’s hand at her waist, was feeling quite dizzy with a whole series of new emotions. Lord Gyre noticed the heightened colour on her cheeks and decided it would be only fair to the girl to try to make her fall in love with him. She was too good for such as St. Clair.
Somehow, in the peace of the rose garden, Lord St. Clair found himself telling Mrs. Ingram all his woes, about being pressured into marriage, about never being able to please his father.
How warm and sweet the comforting darkness of the rose garden was, and how sympathetic was Mrs. Ingram. No one had ever listened to him like this before. As a crescent moon rose in the dark-blue sky above and a heady scent of roses surrounded them, he droned on about the beatings he had had from his tutor and his father, how he just wanted an easy life roistering around with his friends.
‘You will become tired of running around sooner or later,’ said Mrs. Ingram at last. ‘You will want a son. A fine young man like you should have someone in his own image.’
‘But marriage and all that…’ Lord St. Clairwaved a hand as if to encompass all the trials of wedding and wooing.
‘It might be easier than you think,’ cooed Mrs. Ingram. ‘You have great sensibility and that makes you worry too much. A companionable lady who understood you would be just the thing.’
Perry, who had noticed the couple were missing and had tracked them down to the rose garden, stood listening behind a bush. He rubbed his hands gleefully. Here was news at last for the earl. Mannerling was as good as his!
CHAPTER FOUR
A noble Lord, lately high in office, and who manifests a strong inclination to be reinstated in his political power, lost at the Union, a night or two back, 4,000 guineas before twelve o’clock; but continuing to play, his luck took a turn, and he rose a winner of a thousand before five the next morning
.
—MORNING HERALD, June 16, 1804
The following day, Lord Gyre rose early and, wrapped in a banan, made his way to the morning-room. He planned to spend a peaceful hour before anyone else was awake reading the newspapers. But when he pushed open the door of the morning room, he saw Belinda seated at the table, her head bent over a newspaper. Shewas wearing an old blue cotton gown and her hair had not been put up. Shining, black and curly, it lay on her shoulders.
He would have retreated, but she looked up and saw him, and said, ‘Good morning, my lord.’ Her eyes were wide and friendly. Once again he experienced that sharp feeling of pique that this beauty should be so apparently unaware of him as a man.
He sat down opposite her. ‘Anything of interest?’
She smiled. ‘Only things that enrage
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