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

kind, your lordship! But no, if I sat down I would doubtless be surrounded by a dozen impoverished peers. I do not like to sound ungrateful, but their attentions are all rather suspect and though I do admire poetry and sonnets I prefer them to be sincere! I have been offered Spanish coin all evening and frankly, sir, I am tired of it!”
    “Shall I call up your carriage, then? You may wish to depart before the crush.”
    Primrose shook her head mournfully. “No, for Daisy and Lily are enjoying themselves prodigiously! Perhaps I will make my curtsies, though, and wait for them in the comfort of my chaise.”
    “Coward!” Lord Asterley took leave to tease. Primrose responded with a wide smile that reached her lovely eyes and quite transformed her often contemplative nature.
    “Quite so! Lord Asterley, I bid you adieu!”
    So saying, she weaved her way through the interested throng until she found Daisy and apprised her of her intentions. Then it was a quiet wait for Lady Jersey, the most distinguished of the patronesses, before she was able to plead a headache. Finally, escorted by one of the liveried staff, she was able to step into the dark, candlelit mews.
    “There! It is that one, with the royal blue wheels.” She was thankful that it was so close to the entrance. The coachman was nowhere to be seen. Doubtless he was partaking of his own jollification together with the other assorted grooms and ostlers so essential to the occasion. She opened the door with ease, for it was marvelously well oiled and waved the attendant away.
    “I shall be perfectly fine, thank you! No, it is not necessary to help me up, there is a stair. See?” Deftly, she pulled down the little step and clambered in, careful not to catch her gown under her slippered feet. It was made of shimmering amber organdy and she was loath to ruin it. Though she was not vain, the color was a perfect foil to her lustrous eyes and cropped copper head that harbored just the whisper of curls. She waited as the footman lifted up the step and clicked the door shut. Then, with a wave, she turned from him and allowed her eyes to become adjusted to the relative gloom of the interior.
    “Oh!” Her heart gave a lurch as she realized she was not alone. There was a man in the chaise, and though he was fast asleep, she could not quite ignore the broad chest and hard muscles that lay beneath his cream shirt. If he woke, she would undoubtedly be powerless, for there was a firmness about his jaw that brooked no argument. Also, his arms, reprehensibly visible in their turned-up shirtsleeves, appeared entrancingly strong. She knew a wild moment of wanting to touch them, to feel if they were indeed as powerful as they seemed.
    Instead, she vacillated somewhere between a scream and sublime curiosity. What was he doing here? Surely not abducting her, when his countenance was so serene in slumber? Besides, on closer scrutiny he did not look like a gentleman at all. Rather than elegant velvet knee breeches and the obligatory clocked stockings, he was wearing a rather disgusting confection that made him appear to be a groom or a coachman at best.
    “Oh!”
    At last, Primrose thought she had her answer. The man was her coachman, taking a rather large liberty by napping in her interior. She smiled. Well, why not? He appeared exhausted.
    She folded her arms and tried to ignore his presence, thinking back to the events of the evening. She must speak with Grandfather—his bequest was untenable. She would rather be a wallflower than suffer the attentions of a myriad of fortune hunters. She stared out the window, but it was too dark to see a thing. Strange, despite the coolness of the evening, she felt warm and her pulses were racing quite unaccountably.
    She steadfastly ignored the breathing of her manservant, but when he moved, slightly, so that his hand was just touching the seam of her elegant velvet gown, she felt she had stretched forbearance to the limit. She lifted his fingers