A Regency Match by Elizabeth Mansfield Read Free Book Online Page B

behavior would lead the girl into trouble. It was coming … the old woman could feel its approach in her bones. But as she pulled the covers up to her neck and snuggled into the comforting warmth, she banished the subject from her mind. She couldn’t live Sophy’s life for her. Nor could she protect the girl from the consequences of her impetuous behavior. Sophy would have to handle those consequences herself; there was very little a grandmother could do. Lady Alicia could only hope that the pain would not be severe, that Sophy would learn from her mistakes, and that she, weary old creature though she was, would be permitted to assist in picking up the pieces.

Chapter Four
    M ARCUS H ARVEY , the fifth Earl of Wynwood, felt no particular eagerness to attend his mother’s houseparty at Wynwood Hall, even though it had been arranged at his request and was being held in his honor. The only reason he’d requested it at all was to avoid the much more ostentatious affair that his future mother-in-law had threatened to arrange. Iris’s mother, Lady Lorna Bethune, had spoken of holding an engagement ball at her London townhouse for two hundred of her most intimate friends. “A mere two hundred?” Marcus had asked drily, hoping her ladyship was jesting.
    â€œIf you are implying that the number is too large, my dear boy, you may save your breath,” the strong-willed dowager declared. “I couldn’t invite fewer without giving offense.”
    Marcus quailed. “But, Lady Lorna, I couldn’t—”
    â€œNow, Marcus, be a good fellow and don’t object. After all, you must understand that one’s only daughter does not become betrothed every day. One likes to be surrounded by one’s nearest and dearest at such a time.”
    The prospect of facing the congratulations of two hundred of Lady Bethune’s nearest and dearest proved too much for Marcus to stomach. Hoping for aid from his intended bride, he cast an anguished glance at Iris, who was seated on the settee beside him. But Iris was gazing demurely down at the hands folded in her lap, as if to indicate that it was not proper for a well-bred young lady to take part in planning for a party at which she would be the guest of honor. Marcus rose and began to pace about the room. He had an almost obsessive antipathy toward public display, and he abhorred to be made conspicuous. A ball such as the one his mother-in-law contemplated (at which he would be at the center of a crowd of well-wishers) was utterly repugnant to him. “But … my mother writes that … er … she wishes to give the party,” he improvised desperately.
    Lady Bethune gaped. “Your mother? You mean at Wynwood ?”
    â€œYes,” he went on, sinking deeper into deception, “at Wynwood. Mother wants to hold a houseparty, with only our immediate families and a few friends present.”
    If any of Lord Wynwood’s intimate friends had overheard the exchange, they would have understood the reason he’d fabricated that story. They all knew him to be scrupulously honest, so if he were concocting Banbury tales, the reason could only be that Lady Bethune was attempting to violate his deep sense of privacy. Lord Wynwood was known to have a reticence in public that was beyond the ordinary. One could see it in the subdued and modest style of his dress and manner—a style which he consciously adopted to keep himself out of the limelight. He hated to be noticed. If onlookers were inclined to take heed of his entrance into a room (and they often were), it was either because his height and his craggy features had caught their eyes or because his admirable reputation had preceded him.
    His friends described him as the sort who never put himself forward. He kept his opinions to himself unless pressed, but since he was known to be a man of sense and considerable knowledge, his friends always pressed him for those opinions. He