Regina Scott by The Rakes Redemption Read Free Book Online

fact, it sounded as if Lord Wentworth knew less about the poet than Imogene did. Otherwise he’d know there was some difficulty between Mr. Everard and her father.
    The topic must have remained on his mind as well, for he brought it up again when he took his leave a short time later.
    “Hope I didn’t give impression I follow Everard,” he said with a bow over her hand. “Opinions would be swayed by your father’s, whatever they are.”
    “So I’ve heard,” Imogene said brightly. “A great many people are swayed by my father.”
    He looked at her askance, as if begging her to explain. It was a shame she couldn’t put the fellow out of his misery and clarify her father’s opinions on the matter, but the marquess’s attitude toward Vaughn Everard was growing more mysterious by the moment.
    * * *
    “You seemed a bit cool to our guest,” her mother said after the footman had seen him out and she and Imogene had repaired to the dining room. Her smile was gentle as she sat across from her daughter, the seat at the head of the table conspicuously empty. “Has he done something to offend you, dearest?”
    Imogene could think of any number of annoyances but none that rose to the level of offense. She pushed her peas about on her gold-rimmed china plate. “No, Mother. I just find him a bit tiresome.”
    “Unlike your Mr. Everard.”
    Imogene fought a smile. “Very unlike him.”
    “And why do you think you find him so interesting?” her mother persisted, reaching for her crystal goblet.
    A reason suggested itself, but she shoved it away. It was far too soon to claim her heart was engaged, and she still had doubts that Mr. Everard would meet her criteria for a husband.
    “Outside this business with Father, I’m not sure I know,” she replied, abandoning her peas and gazing at her mother. “When I brought up the matter of his interest in Father last night, he asked me about the third of March. Do you remember anything significant about that date?”
    A slight frown marred her mother’s face in the light of the silver candelabra on the table. “March third? I believe that’s the night we arrived in London. What is the importance to Mr. Everard?”
    Imogene motioned to Jenkins to come take her plate. “It appears to be the day his uncle died,” she said, thinking about their aborted conversation at the dance. He’d asked her where her father had been. Then she hadn’t been sure. But if March third was the night they arrived in London, she knew what her father had been doing, and his actions only deepened the mystery.
    Her mother offered her a sad smile, nodding to the footman to remove her plate, as well. “Ah, significant indeed. I understand Mr. Everard and his uncle were close.”
    “Very,” Imogene assured her. “He seems genuinely hurt by Lord Everard’s passing. I suspect Mr. Everard has great sensitivity.”
    Her mother’s lips quirked as the footmen began bringing in the second course. “So it would seem. But the other gentlemen this Season are not so very lacking. I’m sure a number of young ladies find Lord Wentworth, for instance, quite presentable.”
    “And I rather suspect he agrees.” She sat straighter, coloring. “Oh, Mother, forgive me! That sounded waspish. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”
    Her mother’s look was assessing. “I fear it isn’t just today. I want the best for you, Imogene, but do you think perhaps you have set your sights too high?”
    Imogene raised her chin. “I am the Marquess of Widmore’s daughter. I thought I was supposed to set my sights high!”
    Her mother patted the damask cloth beside her as if she longed to pat Imogene’s hand. “I did not mean to suggest you marry the ragman, dearest. However, you seem to have high expectations of your suitors, so high that I fear no man, not even Mr. Everard, can live up to them.”
    Imogene shook her head. “I would think that intelligence and charm are not too much to ask.”
    Her mother