Pursuing Lord Pascal by Anna Campbell Read Free Book Online

found a seat near the fire.
The day had been warm for March, but as night drew in, a chill
tinged the air.
    “Did you go silly?”
    For a long moment, she stared into the
flames. When she answered, her tone was thoughtful. “You know, I
think I might have.”
    Morwenna laughed in delight and rushed over
to hug her, threatening to spill the tea. “I’m so glad.”
    “What are you glad about?” Sally asked,
sweeping in and stripping off her driving gloves. Amy had been
impressed with her friend’s talent as a whip. Even from yards away,
she’d seen that Sally handled a team of horses with aplomb.
    Morwenna straightened and briefly Amy forgot
her confusion about Pascal, and said a silent prayer of gratitude.
Her sister-in-law looked pretty and happy and vital in a way she
hadn’t since the news of Robert’s drowning. “Amy’s made a
conquest.”
    Sally strolled across to the tea tray.
“Pascal? Good for you, Amy.”
    “I didn’t say that,” Amy said.
    “He was very quick to call. And he was most
attentive in the park. I thought poor little Miss Compton-Browne
might burst into tears.”
    “I’m not up to his standard,” Amy said, in no
hurry to tell her friends of Pascal’s marital intentions. She could
hardly believe them, let alone expect anyone else to.
    “Nonsense,” Sally said, settling on the
green-striped sofa and taking a bite of the delicate sugar biscuit
she’d chosen to accompany her tea. “You need to accept that while
you’ve hidden away like a little country mouse for most of your
life, you’re now a beautiful peacock, and all London knows it.
Having Pascal, who is so generally admired, in pursuit only
confirms your triumph.”
    “He’s a dreadful flirt.”
    Sally’s eyes sparkled. “Not so—he’s a highly
accomplished flirt. And there’s absolutely no reason not to flirt
back. When we came to London, it was on the clear understanding
that we were to have fun.”
    “Are you suggesting an affair?” Morwenna
asked. “How wicked.”
    Sally shrugged. “If Amy likes him, why not?
She’s a widow, and a few discreet adventures won’t spoil her
chances of remarrying.”
    “I haven’t thought about remarrying,” she
said slowly. Odd that marriage popped up in two conversations
today.
    “No reason you should. Except that you’re
young and pretty, and you might fall in love again.”
    Grimness tinged Amy’s laugh. “There’s no
‘again’ involved. I didn’t love Wilfred. I married him to get my
hands on his herd of prize shorthorns.”
    Sally gaped at her, then let out a peal of
laughter. “Amy, you’re priceless. I think in that case, it’s well
and truly time to seek a handsome lover.”
    “Who knows?” Morwenna sent Amy a sly glance.
“Perhaps you’ll find Lord Pascal more entertaining than a field
full of fat Herefords.”
    “He’s definitely prettier than a Hereford,”
Sally said.
    “Sally, you have no idea how beautiful a fine
cow can be,” Amy said with perfect sincerity.
    Morwenna threw up her hands. “Amy, you’re
utterly hopeless.”
    * * *
    The Bartletts’ ball was even more of a crush
than the Raynors’. But Amy started to find her feet in this
glamorous new world. Dancing twice with Lord Pascal last night and
appearing in his company in Hyde Park had branded her, however
unlikely, as a success. Within minutes of arrival, her dances were
all claimed. Sally and Morwenna were equally in demand. It seemed
the Dashing Widows lived up to their motto. Meg, too, was the
center of a laughing, happy group of young people.
    Amy danced with a string of handsome, elegant
gentlemen who appeared to enjoy her company. She even managed an
interesting discussion with Sir Godfrey Yelland about her recent
article on cattle feed.
    All was going as well as it possibly could.
So why did the evening feel flat? Had she already moved from stark
terror at the prospect of entering society to a disgust at the
ostentation and overcrowding? With no period in between when