Miss Lacey's Last Fling (A Regency Romance) by Candice Hern Read Free Book Online Page A

his breath upon her neck. "You might experience a great deal more than you expected."
    Rosie offered her broadest smile, then walked toward the terrace doors. When she reached them, she looked over her shoulder in the most coquettish manner she could muster, and said, "Why, Mr. Davenant, you have no idea what I expect."
    She entered the drawing room without waiting to see if her attempt at flirtation had succeeded.
     
    *          *          *
     
    Max studied the sway of her hips beneath the red skirts as she walked away from him. The minx! Not only had he been thoroughly captivated by Rosalind's artless charm, but he was quite sure that within the week half the male population of London would be smitten as well.
    Despite her rejection of the notion, Max did rather think of her as family, and determined to watch out for her. She may appear to others to be an experienced flirt, up to every rig and row. But Max knew from Fanny that the girl had been stuck in the country her whole life and therefore could not possibly be as sophisticated as she let on. She was sure to get herself in trouble if she wasn't careful.
    Knowing she was an untried rustic, Max had no intention of being the instrument of that trouble. He did not for one moment believe her denial about coming to town in search of a husband. She spoke of love, after all. What woman spoke of love without thoughts of marriage? Rosalind, despite her words to the contrary, was no different from the rest. All unmarried women, with the possible exception of the professional Cyprians, were in search of a husband. If he even so much as kissed the girl, he would be in the untenable position of having seduced the daughter of Fanny's stiff-rumped brother. The man would put a bullet in Max's head if he refused to "do the right thing."
    And no pistol-in-the-ribs forced wedding, either, thank you very much. He shuddered just to think of it. No, such a fate was not for Max, so he would steer clear of Miss Lacey and her considerable attractions.
    Yet, she was Fanny's niece, and poor Fanny would be the one forced to deal with whatever mischief Rosalind fell into. Max adored Fanny and had no wish to see her saddled with such an irksome chore. So, he would keep an eye on the girl. For Fanny's sake.
    It was a difficult assignment. Over the next week, Rosalind flitted about town with that come-hither smile and those hazel eyes wide in innocent wonder. Such a paradox could not help but intrigue any man who spent more than five minutes in her company. And Max was quite sure that Rosalind remained perfectly unconscious of her power.
    "Are you absolutely certain she is Sir Edmund's daughter," he asked Fanny a few nights after the Forde card party, "and not some imposter come to town to take advantage of you?" They stood together along the edge of the ballroom at Almack's, a place Max generally avoided and Fanny detested. But Rosalind had begged to go and Fanny had capitulated. In a moment of weakness, Max had agreed to accompany them.
    They watched as Rosalind gathered a circle of gallants around her. She laughed and flirted and teased and wielded her fan with remarkable finesse. Where had she learned to do that?
    Fanny chuckled. "No one is more astonished than I am to find such spirit in the girl."
    Rosalind gave an uninhibited crack of laughter that caused many heads to turn, and she swatted young Lord Radcliffe on the arm with her fan. Several older women directed stern looks in Rosalind's direction, but Max noted that most of the gentlemen in the vicinity smiled.
    Fanny smiled, too, looking for all the world like a proud mother hen as Rosalind was led into a quadrille by Sir Cedric Bassett. "Max, darling, is she not delightful? You know how I dreaded her arrival. I don't know how I could have been so wrong about her, but I tell you she is not at all as I remembered her. Quiet. Reserved. Plain, even. Lord, she's not plain at all, is she, Max?"
    "Dash it, Fanny, you're as bad