Slightly Dangerous by Mary Balogh Read Free Book Online Page B

dreadfully sorry for her. It is why I invited her here. She is a dear friend of mine and needs some diversion.”
    Her name had led Wulfric to realize that she must be a relative of Elrick’s, and then when she had explained that she was a widow, he had remembered that Elrick had lost his only brother a few years back. But it would seem that she was not Elrick’s dependent but was living with her mother and was forced to rely upon the charity of her friends to invite her to entertainments like this. Oscar Derrick, Wulfric guessed, had either been impoverished to start with, or—more likely—had squandered his fortune. His widow did not appear to have private means.
    She was dressed far less finely than any of the other ladies. Indeed, when he had first set eyes—or eye—upon her, he had mistaken her for a servant. Her muslin dress was decent enough but not by any means in the first stare of fashion. Neither was she particularly young. She was well into her twenties, at a guess. She had a pretty, wide-eyed, rather round face, which—it had been impossible not to notice—was sun-bronzed. And, if that were not bad enough, there was a dusting of freckles across her nose. Her hair was dark and short and curly.
    She looked thoroughly countrified and quite out of place among Lady Renable’s guests. But then, she
was
out of place. She had indeed made a brilliant marriage, but she was in fact a
schoolmaster’s
daughter—and a markedly impertinent one too. It was too bad for her that Derrick had been inconsiderate enough to die young.
    Mrs. Derrick, Wulfric decided, was definitely not a lady whose acquaintance he would pursue during the coming two weeks. But then, the same might be said of almost every other lady guest too. He was beginning to realize how colossal a mistake he had made in so impulsively accepting an invitation that had been made verbally and at second hand—and via the notoriously vague Lord Mowbury.
    Lady Sarah Buchan, though she had been introduced to him not half an hour since, was making him a deep curtsy again.
    “I
must
ask you, your grace,” she said, gazing at him with huge brown eyes, her cheeks still flushed with color, “which morning activity you prefer—riding or walking. I have a wager with Miriam Dunstan-Lutt, even though I know it is not at all the thing for ladies to wager.” She tittered.
    He had not been on the marriage mart for a long time, and ladies of all ages as well as their mamas had stopped courting him a number of years ago on the correct assumption that he was not to be caught. Nevertheless, though he was out of practice, he could recognize a trap when he encountered one.
    “I normally write letters and conduct business in the mornings while my brain is fresh, Lady Sarah,” he said curtly, “and do my riding and walking later in the day. Which do
you
prefer?”
    He was already bored almost beyond endurance.
    Was the chit really
flirting
with him?

4
    M OST OF THE GUESTS WERE WEARY FROM TRAVELING and used the time between tea and dinner to rest quietly in their rooms. Wulfric took the opportunity to slip outdoors for some fresh air and exercise. He did not know his way about the park, of course, but he instinctively sought out cover so that he would not be seen from the house and thus invite company. He made his way diagonally across a tree-dotted lawn and took a path through denser trees until he came to the bank of a man-made lake, which had clearly been created for maximum visual effect.
    It was not very large, but it was secluded and lovely and peaceful—and completely hidden from the house. It was a pleasant day, warm if not hot, with a light breeze. This, he thought, inhaling deeply, was just what he needed—fresh air and a quiet outdoor setting to restore his spirits after the lengthy journey and the crowded drawing room during tea. There were paths leading off through the trees to either side of him, but he stood where he was, undecided whether to take one of the