Blossom Time by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online

interesting.”
    Rosalind was shocked to learn Sylvester was still under his family’s guardianship. Harwell studied her with growing astonishment as she gazed across the room at Sylvester, with a look not much short of scheming. “You are interested in him!” he charged.
    “Yes, as my mentor,” she said.
    She continued looking at Sylvester, who was just giving Annabelle a lovely setdown.
    “One does not indulge in poetry for filthy lucre, Miss Fortescue,” he was saying. It seemed Annabelle had inquired how much money was to be made at it. She would! “I do not consider myself a magazine merchant, after all.”
    “But how do you live?” she asked. “You are only a younger son.”
    Sylvester looked at her as if she were a worm. “But the younger son of a marquess,” he said. “A Staunton is hardly expected to wheel a barrow through the streets, or set up as a solicitor.”
    Annabelle turned a little pink about the ears and smiled, and said not a word about her papa. Before anyone spoke, the butler appeared at the door to announce the last arrival, Lady Amanda Vaughan.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Lady Amanda was a widow thirty some years of age. Her title was a legacy from her papa, Lord Siberry, who had little but a title to leave his brood. Her fortune was from her late husband, who had owned a string of gaming houses of dubious reputation before he was killed in a duel. Her looks were entirely her own doing, for very little of her natural endowments was now visible.
    She had enlivened her mousy brown hair to a pretty Titian, her fading cheeks to a rosy pink, and fed her fulsome curves to repletion in the belief that this made her look attractive. She still dressed in the garish style that had pleased her late husband and the clients of his gaming houses.
    On that evening she wore a large set of emeralds and a coral gown that hugged her rounded curves like a plaster. She was not unattractive, but her attractions were akin to those of a friendly barmaid or actress. She had a lively brown eye and a warm smile.
    “Harry, you old dog!” she said, undulating across the room to place a kiss on his cheek. “Summoning me at the very last minute! I know someone called off, and I am merely here to warm an otherwise empty chair. But there, when you summon, we all run to obey.” She made a deep and surprisingly graceful curtsy.
    Harwell made some polite excuses to which Lady Amanda did not listen. She was too busy scouring the room for gentlemen. The pickings were exceedingly slim. She knew from long experience that she had no hope with Harry. Dick was engaged. That left only the young dandy in the yellow jacket. She squeezed Harwell’s fingers, took his wineglass from him, and hastened across the saloon, waving about, but never slowing her pace until she reached her new quarry.
    “Lady Amanda Vaughan,” she said, giving his hand a vigorous shake. “I think I recognize that pretty face. Don’t tell me!”
    When Sylvester recovered from his shock, he ignored her command and gave her his name. “Ah, old Dunston’s lad,” she said. “Whatever brings you to Drayton Abbey? You don’t look like a farmer.” A raucous laugh trilled from her lips. “Harwell never entertains anyone but glorified farmers, you must know. He and Farmer George are a pair. I shouldn’t be much surprised to see him land one of the royal princesses.”
    Lady Amanda’s name was well known in London. That she had sold up Vaughan’s gaming houses for fifty thousand pounds and had no children were the facts that had stuck in Lord Sylvester’s mind. He was not tardy to mount his hobbyhorse and speak of Camena. And Lady Amanda, having run through all the eligible gentlemen in the parish, put on her brightest smile and claimed a great interest in poetry.
    She held him captive until dinner was called and ignored Harwell when he came to lead her to the dining room. Harwell shrugged and offered his arm to Rosalind instead.
    “You must look to your