Anything but a Gentleman by Amanda Grange Read Free Book Online Page A

much of a treat.’
    And with that he threw his leg over his horse and rode away.
     

Chapter Three
     
    To her surprise, Marianne found herself looking forward to the Cosgroves’ ball. Usually she disliked going out on winter evenings, but this evening it seemed foolish to worry about icy roads and draughty carriages. Not that it had anything to do with Lord Ravensford, she told herself. No matter how interesting she found him she could never think of marriage; not with all her responsibilities to the estate; and  –
    She stopped, startled. Marriage indeed! What was she thinking of? She must indeed be in need of more company, as Trudie was fond of telling her, if her thoughts were leaping to marriage simply because a bachelor had moved into the neighbourhood.
    ‘It’s a good thing you’re a slender nymph,’ said Trudie, recalling her thoughts to the present as she helped Marianne into her silk ballgown. It was of soft cream, perfectly suiting Marianne’s complexion and setting off  the colour of her bright blue eyes. ‘When I used to help your mama dress it was always panniers and wigs and goodness knows what. Now the fashions are any old how, and it’s do as you will and come as you please.’ She gave a snort, not attempting to hide her opinion on the modern fashions, which in her opinion were not a patch on the opulent styles of yesteryear.
    The line of Marianne’s gown was simple. Its close-fitting bodice, ornamented with three small ribbon bows one above the other, showed off her trim waist, and the full skirt, with the merest hint of a bustle, was decorated with a large bow at the back. A slight train flowed becomingly behind her.
    ‘And now for your pearls,’ said Trudie, fastening the simple necklace round Marianne’s neck.
    Marianne surveyed herself in the cheval glass. Her dark hair, brushed until it shone, had been arranged into a mass of ringlets that surrounded her face and fell halfway down her back. It was decorated with an ivory plume that picked up the colour of the lace which edged her scooped neckline and spilled from her three-quarter-length sleeves.
    She turned to see herself from the back. As she did so the full skirt swirled around her ankles, making a delightful swishing sound, reminding Marianne that it was an age since she had last dressed up and attended a ball.
    ‘Well, I say it as shouldn’t,’ said Trudie mistily, ‘you look as pretty as a picture. Your mama’d be proud.’
    ‘You spoil me,’ smiled Marianne.
    ‘Someone has to,’ returned Trudie. She knew how hard it had been for Marianne since her brother had left home and her papa had retreated into his sorrows. ‘You’ve grown too serious of late, Miss Marianne. You need a bit of fun. But mind, you be home by midnight.’
    ‘Or the carriage will turn into a pumpkin,’ Marianne teased.
    ‘It better not,’ said Trudie with relish, ‘or Henri will make it into soup.’
    ‘I must just go in and see Papa before I go,’ said Marianne,  picking up her fan and gloves.
    Trudie stood aside and Marianne made her way to her father’s bedroom. She knocked on the door and went in.
    The room was sombre, with heavy oak furniture adding to the air of gloom. Dark red drapes round the four poster bed matched dark red drapes at the windows. She thought again how much she would like to change them. But her papa, knocked first of all by the death of his wife and then by the disgrace of his son, had retreated into his own little world and would not now hear of any change.
    ‘I have come to say goodnight, Papa,’ she said brightly, going over to the man who sat slumped in his chair by the window.
    ‘Is it bed time already?’ he asked querulously, clutching at the blanket that covered his knees.
    ‘No, Papa,’ she said, kissing him on the forehead. ‘But I won’t be home until late. I am going to the Cosgroves’ ball, and I know you will not like to be disturbed when I get in.’
    ‘A ball, you say, my dear?’ he asked