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Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.

Regency Collection 2013 Part 1 - Louise Allen


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money,’ Caroline said ruthlessly, ignoring Jack’s attempts to silence her. ‘And all Jack inherited were debts. Piles of them. It is entirely due to Jack that we are not all in a debtors’ prison now.’

      ‘Poor Mama,’ Susan lamented.

      ‘Does she know?’

      ‘Of course she knows, she knew all the time. And when you attack your poor brother, who works and worries to keep a roof over your head, how do you think it makes her feel?’

      ‘I couldn’t help it, I didn’t know,’ Penelope said indignantly. ‘I am sorry Jack, I shouldn’t have said it, even if it were true. But how horrible for Mama. I do not think I ought to get married—I think I should stay unmarried and be a Comfort to her.’

      Despite everything, Jack felt a bubble of laughter rising in his chest. Desperately keeping from making eye contact with Caroline, he said seriously, ‘I would much rather you did get married, Penny. It would be less of a financial burden to me if you did.’

      ‘Oh. Well, if it would help, I will try and find a rich husband as soon as possible. Is it all right to ask them first about mistresses? After all, I think I should check.’

      ‘No!’ Susan and Caroline chorused.

      ‘If you say so,’ she said doubtfully. ‘And Caro can marry Mr Willoughby.’ She ignored her sister’s blushes and explained, ‘He is very nice, but rather dull, and not very rich. And quite old.’ Caroline rolled her eyes at Jack, who shrugged sympathetically, then felt the humour drain out of his veins as Penelope added brightly, ‘And Jack is very handsome, as well as being an earl, so he can find a rich wife easily. You should have looked for one in London, but I expect you did not think of it, being so tied up with more important things.’ She frowned over the problem. ‘I think you should go straight back there—it must be the best place to find them. And we should all contribute our dress allowances so you can buy some fashionable clothes.’

      Jack fought to keep the mildly amused smile on his face. ‘That is a very noble offer, Penny, but I am afraid none of the rich ladies would want me. I met lots in London and they all want dukes and rich men. Poor earls are quite out of fashion.

      ‘Anyway, I have a plan. I had hoped to find investors, because that seemed the least risky option, but I will borrow from the bank instead, so you can be quite comfortable and keep your dress allowance. And you will not have to interrogate rich bachelors about their mistresses either.’

      ‘Well, that is a relief,’ Caro said brightly. ‘I think you had better go to bed now, Penny.’

      ‘All right.’ Penelope kissed Jack goodnight, then looked her surprise when Susan joined her. ‘You too?’ The door remained ajar after they went out and Penny’s whisper came back clearly. ‘I expect you are just being tactful, aren’t you? I expect Caro wants to talk to Jack about Mr Willoughby …’

      ‘Impossible child!’ Caro laughed and for a moment Jack thought he had got away with it. Then his sister’s wide grey gaze became solemn. ‘Tell me about her. There is someone, isn’t there? Is it the rich spinster with the riot outside her house? Miss France?’

      Could he talk about it, even to Caro? Why not? His damned pride again, he supposed.

      ‘Yes. Miss France. Lily.’

      ‘How pretty. Not an elderly spinster, then, whatever Mama thinks?’

      ‘No. She is twenty-five or -six. Tall, red-headed, very lovely. Very, very rich. A tea merchant’s daughter and heiress. She is spoilt, stubborn, interfering, opinionated, bossy, insensitive, has absolutely no taste …’

      ‘And you love her?’ Caro was smiling at his outburst.

      ‘Yes I love her.’ It was like a liberation, being able to talk about it. ‘Under it all she is brave and honest and clever and kind. But I do not know why I love her. I would never in a thousand years have imagined loving a woman like that.’

      ‘Well, George Willoughby is thirty-five, and not very good looking, and only moderately well off and very decent and a little dull. And if he does not ask me to marry him soon, I am going to go into a decline,’ Caroline pronounced. ‘So you see, there is no accounting for love. In fact, they both sound so improbable for us that it proves it is love, don’t you think?’

      ‘Probably.’ Jack crossed his legs and stared at the polished tip of his evening shoe. ‘Do you want me to ask Willoughby his intentions?’

      ‘Goodness, no! Poor George—you will scare him halfway to Alnwick. I can manage him. But what about your Lily? Did she turn you down?’ Caroline reached over and squeezed his hand consolingly.

      ‘No. I turned her down.’

      ‘What?’ Caro gasped. ‘She asked you to marry her?’

      ‘Yes. She wants to marry a title.’

      ‘But you told us you were going to London incognito.’

      ‘I was, and I did, and she did not know. But she had it all worked out. I would become a rich mine owner, enter Parliament, be ennobled—and we would all live happily ever after.’

      ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Caro said weakly. ‘I can quite see why you turned her down.’

      ‘You can?’ Jack found himself bristling in Lily’s defence. His sister’s reaction should have justified his original feelings. Now, illogically, it placed him on Lily’s side.

      ‘Well, especially if you were not in love with her then …’

      ‘I was. It was just my damned pride and her confounded desire to organise everything just how she wants it. I lost my temper, said things I shouldn’t, then later she found out that I did have a title and she thought I had turned her down because she wasn’t good enough for me and we had another row.’ It sounded so futile, recounted baldly like that. Why couldn’t he have explained to Lily how he felt? Where had all the words gone?

      Jack got to his feet and began to pace. Caroline watched him for a moment, then jumped up and threw her arms around him. ‘Poor darling!’

      ‘Ow! Bloody hell, Caro!’

      ‘What have you done?’ His sister regarded him narrowly. ‘I thought you looked under the weather, more than a sleepless journey could account for. Have you been fighting? Those bruises on your face are too fresh for the riot in the street.’

      It was never any good trying to fool her. His mother he had often managed to hoodwink; Caro, since she was about five, never. ‘Yes.’ There was an appalling desire to swagger; Lily had spurned his attempt to defend her honour, his sister at least would value it. Jack pulled himself together and produced a bald explanation. ‘Lily was betrothed. Then she broke it off. The man involved spread unpleasant rumours about her. I called him out.’

      ‘Wonderful! You are so brave—but I am glad we did not know about it before, the suspense would have been dreadful. Did you kill him?’

      ‘Of course not! I would be in Calais by now if I had—or in prison. I deloped.’

      ‘But surely Miss France was thrilled that you had risked your life for her honour?’

      ‘She found out about the duel at the same time as she discovered the truth about who I was. She was too angry, thinking I considered her beneath me, to really take in the duel.’

      ‘Well, go and tell her again that you love her, you idiot!’ Caro’s glare was uncomfortably reminiscent of Lily in a temper. ‘You have told her that you love her, haven’t you?’

      ‘Er. No.’

      ‘Men!’ Caroline took a rapid turn about the room. ‘Well, for goodness’ sake, get back down there and do it! She is probably as miserable as you are.’

      ‘Why should she be? Lily does not love me. Her pride was hurt, that is all.’

      ‘Give


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