Raven's Ransom by Hayley Ann Solomon Read Free Book Online

well, no one but her ladyship need know ought of this little exploit!”
    “And will her ladyship approve?”
    “Oh, undoubtedly not! That, my dear man, is the point! ”
    With these cheerful words, Reece was forced to be content. He may have been mollified to learn that the Dowager Marchioness of Rochester shared his sentiments exactly. Confronted with her son looking like a coachman rather than a gentleman of rank, she hastily waved some smelling salts about her person before moving to greet him. She was too canny a mother, however, to do more than lift her eyebrows slightly and decline a rather pungent arm.
    If my lord was disappointed in this mild response, he did not reveal so, merely remarking that “since he was not dressed for Almack’s, he would simply have to wait for her in the chaise,” a point upon which his much-beleaguered mother could not argue. Thus it was that my lord personally drove his merry, royal blue chaise into the courtyard leading up to Almack’s. When his mother descended, she refused to allow him to hand her down, for fear of soiling her ribbed gold sarcenet, acquired most especially for the occasion.
    My lord grinned at her cheekily and murmured that she must not scold him, for he was feeling wicked and spoiling for a “bit of fun.” Whereupon the dowager marchioness rapped him on the knuckles with her ebony fan and commented dryly that he was “an incorrigible rogue” and that she hoped he had a long and very boring wait ahead of him, for she intended to dance the night away and more.
    The marquis sighed. Doubtless it was true, for the marchioness was wretchedly fashionable and boasted a deplorably long list of friends. They would all, he was certain, jockey for her company until it would be impossible to tell which of her delightful attributes was likely be more worn out—her slippers or her tongue.
    Thankfully, the moon was full, his carriage equipped with a wonderfully newfangled gas lamp, and he’d had the foresight to bring with him a long, but edifying book. After he’d settled the horses and idly watched the procession of debutantes enter the hallowed halls, he would thank his lucky stars for the blissful reprieve and settle down snugly. Uranometria made interesting reading.
     
     
    Miss Primrose Chartley smiled rather weakly and declined her third dance with a very handsome but sadly impecunious gentleman. Her refusal did not help her much, for just as soon as he had taken his leave, his place was usurped by another gentleman—not as handsome, this time, but decidedly higher in rank. Unfortunately, his pockets too, were notoriously to let.
    “Am I to be surrounded by nothing but fortune hunters for the rest of the Season?” The tone held a note of amused despair.
    “Beg pardon?” Lord Asterley caught her mumbled remark.
    “Oh! I was talking to myself. A dreadful habit. Do forgive me!” She accompanied her contrite apology with such a glorious smile that poor Lord Asterley wished he were a mere youth again instead of an elderly statesman in his dotage. Miss Chartley was not hard to forgive when her eyes shone as bright as diamonds and the lights in her hair were as lustrous as copper kettles and a good deal more attractive.
    “Not at all, not at all!’ He bowed correctly and offered her his arm. ”Captain Redding was asking after you. Shall I tell him you are on the patio?”
    “Heaven forbid! I believe he is hedging his bets, for he has danced twice with Lily and at least once with Daisy. Grandfather’s bequest has become quite deplorable!”
    “Very irksome, I am sure.” Lord Asterley did not pretend to misunderstand. The Chartley sisters were the talk of the Ton. Lord Raven had outdone himself. Undoubtedly, they would make excellent matches, but at what cost? Miss Chartley, though not precisely haggard, looked tired and a trifle out of sorts. He could not blame her in the least.
    “Would you like a seat? I am certain I can procure one for you ...”
    “How