No Regrets by Michèle Ann Young Read Free Book Online

clear vision, Lucas took in the filthy floor and the tables coated in grease and inhaled the lingering stench of unwashed bodies. He put a shaking hand to his eyes. He'd brought Caro, his best friend, to a hellhole and then insulted her in her bedroom. No wonder she could barely bring herself to be civil this morning.
       That was the last time. No more Lucas the dissolute rake. He no longer needed the mask. His marriage would keep his father from meddling in his affairs, and besides, he needed his wits about him to get his lads comfortably settled in the country.

Three

    More rain. Only now, instead of muddy fields and dripping hedgerows, slick cobbles and black umbrellas in narrow streets met Caro's curious gaze.
       London. A tremor of excitement mixed with trepidation ran down her spine.
       "Nasty, noisy, dirty place," Lizzie muttered, staring out of the window on the other side.
       The noises were indeed deafening. The sounds of horses and vehicles of every kind mingled with street criers shouting out their wares.
       Peering back behind the coach, the glass cold against her cheek, Caro tried to see Lucas and Maestro, but it seemed as if a dozen vehicles blocked her view. These last two days, he'd chosen to ride, no doubt weary of Lizzie's complaints and bored with female company in general.
       "This must be Mayfair. I must say I didn't expect it to be quite so crowded." Caro wrinkled her nose at the pervasive stench of offal. "Or so smelly."
       Lizzie sniffed. "I'll not call it fair."
       "Oh, Lizzie, you'll see. It will be fine and fair."
       The carriage turned off the main thoroughfare, drawing to a halt beside a fenced garden on one side and a row of narrow townhouses on the other. According to Lucas, their rented house lay near St. James in the heart of the fashionable world. Caro pushed her spectacles up her nose. "I'll be so glad to be out of this coach."
       The moment the footman let down the steps, Caro alighted into a fine drizzle. Crystal drops hung suspended from the wrought iron railings in front of the house. The wind shook the trees, and large drops pattered onto the lackey's umbrella. The smell of coal fires hung thick in the damp air.
       Caro glanced up at her new house in awe and then turned to Lucas, who had halted behind them. Lucas threw his leg over Maestro with a wince and handed the reins to Tigs. He joined Caro at the path to the front door. "I told you it would be all the crack."
       It certainly was grand. Caro ran her gaze up the three-storey facade. Identical to the houses on either side, it had ribbed pilasters bordering each window, and at the top of three wide steps, an imposing portico graced a central front door.
       "It seems rather large," she said.
       "Well, I daresay it might seem so to you. But if you want to entertain, you have to have a ballroom."
       Caro raised an eyebrow. "Now you mention it, I can see how that is an absolute necessity."
       He cracked his short laugh and looked more cheerful.
       Caro squared her shoulders. "I suppose we must go in." The lantern beside the door had not been lit despite the gloom of the afternoon. "They are expecting us, are they not?"
       "Yes, of course. My man of business wrote they would expect us on the fifteenth and—"
       "And the fifteenth is tomorrow." Her stomach plunged. Not another night at an inn. "Oh, Lucas."
       His mouth set in a firm line, Lucas took her arm. "Stop worrying so much. If we are a day early, they will have to cope."
       Clutching Caro's valise, Lizzie trailed behind them.
       The tall thin butler who opened the door had an impressive moustache and a frigid stare. He glanced at the carriage. "Welcome, Lord Foxhaven, Lady Foxhaven." He was a man with aplomb.
       Lucas ushered Caro over the threshold. "You must be Beckwith."
       "Yes, my lord." The butler snapped his fingers. A liveried footman hurried forward to take their outer