Barbara Metzger by Rakes Ransom Read Free Book Online Page B

hear.”
    They smiled in shared understanding, removing the last tension from the room.
    “I wonder what they’ll find to natter on about when Jacelyn’s in London?” Trevaine mused, only to be caught up by the earl’s laugh.
    “Do you think they won’t find her name in the newspapers’ gossip columns? Your daughter, sir, will likely set London on its ear. Rake Claibourne’s betrothed?” At Trevaine’s look of consternation, he held up his hands. “No need to worry, my lord, I’ll keep her safe from overstepping the line, but I’ll not bridle her,” he said, finishing with a doubt-tinged “if any man could.”
    It was Trevaine’s turn to be amused. “Not any easy task you’ve set yourself, my boy, but you’ll do, you’ll do. Tell me,” he asked in a more thoughtful tone of voice, “do you think my girl is pretty?”
    Claibourne considered for a moment, straightening the cuff of his shirtsleeve. “Pretty? No, I wouldn’t call Miss Trevaine that. I’ve only seen her in boys’ clothes, recall, with her hair undone, nothing anyone could label pretty. Yet there was a glow about her, a vibrant, entrancing appeal. A man would never grow tired of watching her face change with her thoughts. No, I think she’ll be beautiful in time.”
    “Good,” Trevaine said, rising slowly from his chair. “You’ve still got your wits about you. Hang on to them, lad. I’ll be sending Jacelyn in to you.”
    After Trevaine left, the earl wiped his forehead. Gads, he’d rather face Boney’s whole army than another such interview—and the battle hadn’t even begun!
    *
    “I shan’t marry you, my lord, and that’s the end of it. All this fuss over one silly little kiss.” When he cleared his throat she paused in her angry pacing, but he seemed merely to be examining his gold signet ring. Jacelyn had the grace to blush. “Well, one kiss, at any rate. It’s not as though we were caught out at some inn, having an assignation or something. I see no reason why I should have to wed anybody.”
    “Will you stop moving about, sweetheart, you’re looking like a disgruntled chicken.”
    “I look like a what ?” This was too much! To be likened to some idiotic poultry after a harrowing morning watching her father grow paler and weaker. Even Mrs. Phipps, the housekeeper, had added her tuppence, practically scalping Miss Trevaine under the excuse of putting miss’s hair up, as befitted a young lady “who wouldn’t want to embarrass her poor, sweet mother’s memory.” The look on Mrs. Phipps’s face added the unnecessary “more than you already have.”
    Jacelyn even had to change out of her plain round gown and into a sprigged muslin, “like a young lady receiving a gentleman caller,” according to Mrs. Phipps. To Jacelyn it was more like dressing the sacrificial lamb! The whole thing was beyond reason, and she wasn’t having any of it, nor any of his fine lordship, leaning so nonchalantly against the edge of her father’s desk, looking superbly elegant and supremely relaxed for a condemned man.
    “You should be gratified then, my lord, that this…this chicken refuses to marry you.”
    “More like a hornet now, poppet, but that’s irrelevant,” he told her, delighting in the sparks in her eyes, “for I haven’t asked you to marry me.”
    Jacelyn’s hand flew to her mouth. What a fool she must look now! “But Papa said, and Squire said, and—”
    “Squire says a great deal too much and your father has rightfully left it to us to work out.” He held up his hand. “No, that does not mean you can forget all about last night’s ah, events, and go onto your next hey-go-mad scheme. I do have some honour, you know. I don’t go around strewing the countryside with soiled doves.” Her innocent confusion made him amend that: “I don’t ruin a young lady’s reputation and then leave her to face the censure of her friends and neighbours. So what I am proposing is that you come to London with me and my