Elizabeth Mansfield by Matched Pairs Read Free Book Online

his eyes looked so hopeful, I couldn’t hurt him. I told him to call at nine.” She sank back against the sofa cushions, her mood having swung from irritation to eager anticipation. “Do you suppose he plans to do it tonight?”
    Lord Smallwood did not look up from his game. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
    But she didn’t need her father’s agreement. “Of course he does. How foolish of me not to have seen it! A shabby old phaeton in broad daylight would not seem a romantic setting to a man like Tris. He means to ask me tonight! Here in a proper drawing room. In candlelight!”
    Her father turned about on his chair. “But you don’t intend to accept him, do you?” he asked, suddenly worried. “You said this morning that you would wait and see.
    “That was this morning. Now I’m absolutely certain of my feelings. I love him, Papa. I truly do. When he asks me, I shall leap into his arms.”
    “Good God!” Lord Smallwood winced and put a hand to his forehead in a gesture of helplessness.
    Cleo saw it, and her smile faded. She knew she often behaved with callous selfishness, but she truly loved her father. She hated to see him so upset. Rising again from the sofa, she crossed the room and propped herself on the arm of his chair. “Don’t look so alarmed, Papa,” she said gently. “You’ll learn to love him, just as I did.” She leaned down, brushed back a wisp of her father’s white hair and kissed his forehead. “He’s not as shallow and foolish as my usual swains, you know. He cares a great deal about politics and the state of the world. He spoke to me about the plight of the poor Derbyshire workers, just as you did. He’s as sympathetic to their riots as you are. And you mustn’t think he’s a mere country squire. He has a lovely, large estate in Derbyshire and is delightfully plump in the pocket even though he does drive about in that aged phaeton. After we’re wed, you shall spend months at a time in the country with us and dandle your grandchildren on your knee.”
    “Grandchildren!” Lord Smallwood shuddered. She was moving much too fast for him.
    “Yes, grandchildren. You’ll come to bless this day, really you will!” With that, she took hold of his chin and made him look up at her. “You will make yourself scarce tonight, after he comes, won’t you, dearest Papa? To give us some time alone?”
    The poor old fellow was, as always, putty in her hands. “You are a shocking minx,” he muttered in a last-ditch struggle. “Do you think I can permit you to visit with a man without chaperonage?”
    “Don’t be so medieval. We’ve a houseful of servants at my beck and call should I need them. And I assure you, I won’t need them. Tris is every inch the gentleman.”
    The white-haired man sighed in surrender. “Very well. I’ll spend the evening at my club.”
    She threw her arms about him and planted another kiss on the top of his head. Then she ran to the door. “I think I’ll wear the ivory satin tonight,” she said over her shoulder as she flew down the hall. “It has a shocking décolletage. I was saving it for the Harrington’s ball, but tonight is more important. Yes, the ivory satin. It will drive him wild!”
    A few hours later, when Tris was admitted to the candle-lit drawing room, he was indeed driven wild by the sight of her in the ivory satin. He actually gaped when he caught his first glimpse of her. She was standing before the fireplace, her slim body profiled in the firelight, her elbow resting on the mantel and her head turned toward him over her shoulder, her chin high. The firelight gave the room, her hair, the side of her face and the curves of her breast a golden glow. “You are a vision,” he whispered in a kind of breathless agony. “I never want to take my eyes from you.”
    She smiled. “Well, then, you needn’t. Not for a while, anyway.” This was the sort of greeting she’d hoped for. The evening was getting off to a very promising start.