Hayley Ann Solomon by The Quizzing-Glass Bride Read Free Book Online Page A

would sink with mortification, then!”
    “ Y es, I see that. But all the same, Miss Reynolds, I cannot permit you to take the stage by yourself, disguise or no.”
    “Well, I agree it is not . . . convenable, as my French governess would say, but there is no other option.”
    “There is. You shall disguise yourself as a page in my household and travel under my protection. I assure you, the path of a viscount is smoother than that of the common stage. And the carriage, I might mention, is a great deal better sprung.”
    Fern jerked up her eyes. They were so expressive, it was like watching a mirror, framed, of course, in iron, like the ubiquitous spectacles. Doubt warred with hope. Excitement warred with flat despair. He waited in stillness, for much hung on her answer, and he feared she might waver or doubt his pure intentions. Which were, by the way, pure, unlike his desires. These he steadfastly ignored, despite their obtrusive nature.
    It seemed he would like nothing better than an illicit day of pleasure with his bride-to-be. His “quizzing-glass bride,” he liked to think of her, though she would have gasped in horror. The patience paid off.
    After several moments of painful deliberation, Miss Fern made the hardest and bravest decision of her life. She would alienate her family, disgrace her name, but surely, surely, save the man she loved from annoyance. He would not be forced to marry her. Neither would he be dragged through the courts for breach. Fern smiled brilliantly at Viscount Sandford. Her lips curved delightfully, but in the translucent green of her eyes, there was no answering laughter.

Five
    Fern struggled through a note to her parents, then sealed it quickly before she had a chance to change her mind. They would never understand her reasoning— she hardly did, only she knew for certain it would be a shabby thing to do to foist herself upon Warwick. Of course, she told herself crossly, if he had only taken the time to get to know her, he might have saved her a lot of bother. He would never, most likely, have proposed, and therefore never exposed himself to issues of breach.
    She had little doubt that Sir Peter, stuck with a daughter whose first season had been an unmitigated disaster, would stop at nothing to get her firmly established. He would undoubtedly therefore threaten breach, knowing full well the famous Hargreaves dislike of scandal. All very well, but the direct consequences of all this conniving would be that she was foisted upon a man who despised her! And if he didn’t now, he soon would, when he was leg-shackled forever in such distasteful circumstances.
    A small voice told Fern that she was foolish, that she should seize her chances and marry the man of her dreams. Unfortunately, it was not just she who dreamed of him, but also half the unwed ladies of London. The wed ones, too, if rumor was correct. The Marquis of Warwick, she suspected, was a rake. Which brought her full circle again. Rakes do not take kindly to having their hands forced. He would hate her, hate her spectacles, and hate her pet parrot, Kate. She simply could not bear that, for she and Kate went way back to the fourth county fair, where she was purchased for threepence from a sailor.
    Her language had never been expurgated, of course, but oh, she was the most intelligent creature alive! Fern could not imagine life without her. Even Mimsy indulged her, which was saying a lot, for she did not normally hold with birds and had been severely disapproving from the first. Now she and Kate had called a truce.
    Kate no longer squawked “Washerwoman washerwoman!” when Miss Garret entered Fern’s chamber, and Miss Garett, upon occasion, poked seeds in through the bars.
    The parrot, blue tailed and bright, eyed Fern suspiciously. “Squawk! Squawk!” she said.
    “Yes, of course you shall come! I cannot think that one extra piece of luggage will burden the viscount a great deal. He seemed a very pleasant gentleman!”
    The