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Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.

Regency Collection 2013 Part 1 - Louise Allen


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There I go again … mentioning money. Lily could have kicked herself.

      And then she could have kicked Jack, who merely looked down his nose and remarked, ‘In this case, a purchase where money does buy quality, Miss France. Have a pleasant ride.’

      In other words, most of my other purchases are not quality I suppose, Mr High and Mighty Lovell? she fumed as she trotted off towards Park Lane. I just do not know why I love the wretched man.

      ‘Miss France?’ Lily stared round wildly and found she had reined in right in the middle of Park Lane, almost causing a collision involving a landau, a chaise and two curricles. She pulled herself together and arrived at the Stanhope Gate flustered and dazed, conscious that only Spindrift’s good manners had got her out of a nasty scrape.

      ‘Are you all right, Miss France? Shall we go back?’

      ‘What? Oh, yes, I am quite all right, thank you Peters. I just realised something, it was a bit of a shock. Come along, I want to join the promenade along Rotten Row.’

       All right? Will I ever be all right again? I am in love with him. But I cannot be in love with him. He is a mine owner, and any minute he may lose that mine. He isn’t even merchant class as I am, however well he speaks. He isn’t rich; he doesn’t even seem to be comfortably off. Papa would have been furious, everyone would be. No title, no place in society. He would never ask me to marry him anyway, he despises my taste and my money …

      ‘Miss France!’

      ‘What? Oh, yes, Peters, thank you, I see her. Lady Farringdon, good afternoon.’ She exchanged bows with a matron in a landau; now, had she not heard all the scandal, or was she prepared to give Miss France the benefit of the doubt?

      Oh, goodness, there was Lady Jersey. She had not counted on meeting one of the Patronesses of Almack’s, which was foolish, given the fashionable throng who flocked to the Park of an afternoon. All of a sudden her defiance in wearing her new habit, let alone riding out with only a groom, seemed very ill judged.

      Lily considered turning tail and bolting. It had seemed such a good idea, to be seen in the Park at the height of the fashionable promenade. She could demonstrate that she had nothing to be ashamed of, she would find out, once and for all, whether there was anyone she could rely upon, and she could perhaps convey her side of the story to a few influential ladies.

      Now, completely overset by her thoughts about Jack, all her poise deserted her and she could only stare helplessly as Lady Jersey’s carriage approached.

      ‘Miss France! What a surprise.’

      Could a large enough hole open up to swallow her and horse together? No, apparently not.

      ‘Lady Jersey, ma’am.’

      ‘I was just talking about you. The things I have been hearing! Now come and join me and tell me all about it.’

      With a sensation of walking into the lion’s den, Lily signalled to Peters to come and help her down. Lady Jersey was a notorious gossip with enormous influence. If she decided to be amused by Lily’s predicament, all might be saved. If she decided it was a vulgar bore, the situation was irretrievable.

      ‘What a striking habit, Miss France.’ Oh, no, she hates it …

      Jack spread the post he had collected from the Green Dragon out in front of him. A letter from home, full of news from his sisters, sensible enquiries about his well being from Mama. No indication there of what she must be worrying about, with him gone so long. He made no secret with her of the state of affairs; she had seen the family fortunes crash during his father’s lifetime and knew exactly how things stood.

      A long budget of news from William Sykes, his colliery manager, most of it indifferent, culminating with the intelligence that virtually every metal tire on the wagons needed replacing and enclosing the blacksmith’s estimate. And, gallingly, a cheerful letter from a neighbour with the encouraging information that the market for domestic coals at the Newcastle docks was buoyant and now was the moment to sink further shafts, as he himself planned.

      ‘Good for you, Roper,’ Jack muttered, trying to feel cheerful for his friend. No, enough was enough. He would give it one more week, one more advertisement and then go home and fight this thing on the spot. A long way away from Lily France and those great green eyes. A broken heart was only another sort of pain, after all.

      ‘Jack?’

      ‘I did not hear you.’ She was standing in the open doorway at the head of the stairs, still dressed for riding, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. Jack got to his feet and stood with the table between them. It felt safer. ‘Did you have a pleasant ride?’

      ‘It was wonderful!’ She came in, closed the door behind her and pulled off her hat. A mass of chestnut hair tumbled free and she pushed it back with an exclamation of annoyance. Jack felt his whole body tense, his mouth dry. He had never seen that glory unbound before. His hands curled with the need to fix themselves in the shining mass, pull her to him, bury his face in it. He felt his body sway and stepped back away from the table, deeper into the shadows.

      ‘I forgot we just bundled it up.’ She was running her fingers through it now; the fragrance from it reached him, even across the room. Jasmine? ‘I saw Lady Jersey in the Park.’

      ‘The Patroness? But is that good?’

      ‘It might not have been—I was a mass of nerves when she called me over. But, Jack, it is all right! She asked me to join her in her carriage and we drove the length of the Row and she was so amiable, you would not believe.

      ‘And she admired my habit and told me I was bold but original. Then she wanted to know all about the scene outside the house, and laughed when I told her—and said, Now, I wonder who might have been behind that Miss France? in such a knowing way that I am sure she suspects Lady Angela, whom I know she dislikes. And then she wanted to know about Adrian.’

      ‘What did you tell her? She has the reputation as a shocking gossip, has she not?’ Damn it, I just want to go over there and take you in my arms and …

      ‘Dreadful—but I think that is all to the good—provided she is on one’s side and believes she has all the inside news. I was very careful not to say anything horrid about Adrian, just to imply that we both realised we would not suit. Then I said that despite it being perfectly amicable someone was spreading nasty rumours about it and she looked very knowing and said she would soon put people right about that. So I think it will be a storm in a teacup—I am so thankful I caught her on a day when she was inclined to be understanding.’

      If I tell her I love her, will she be shocked? Or laugh? Or if I go over there and make love to her and then tell her—can I make her love me? And then what? ‘Good news indeed,’ he agreed drily. ‘I suspect she enjoys meddling, setting people on end. Perhaps someone she is at outs with has criticised you, so she decides to take your part?’

      ‘Probably,’ Lily agreed, drifting into the room and beginning to turn over the pile of prints and drawings that were on one end of the table. ‘Are these all steam pumps?’

      ‘No, not all, there are maps of the coal field, some cross-sections of rock formations, that sort of thing.’ He stayed back in the shadows, burningly conscious of the hardness of his body, of his need to touch her.

      ‘Oh, what is this?’ A print, stuck to the underside of another, drifted free as she lifted it and fluttered to the floor. Jack took one long stride forward and caught it, his fingers over the caption at the bottom. It brought them face to face as he straightened up.

      ‘Let me see.’ Lily craned to look at the print, a foursquare castle in the antique style with massive towers at each corner. ‘Where is that? It is very picturesque.’

      ‘Hardly that,’ Jack said. ‘It is simply a castle near the mine.’ There was something in his voice that made her look sharply at him, but she could read neither his face nor the tone. It seemed to her that perhaps


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