The Earl's Untouched Bride by Annie Burrows Read Free Book Online Page B

even put that twinkle in his eye that she could see when he bent his head in her direction to give her this mock scold, she would be happy.

    'What about dogs, then? What if I should go into some drawing room and a lady should have a little dog. Must I not go into the room? Or should I just stay away from it? By, say, five feet? Or six?'

    'Pets, yes — of course you will come across pets from time to time. That is not what I meant at all, you little minx!'

    Pretending exasperation he did not feel, to disguise the fact he was on the verge of laughter, he said, 'No wonder your brother said I should end up beating you. You would drive a saint to distraction!'

    'I was only,' she declared with an impish grin, 'trying to establish exactly what you expected of me. I promised to behave exactly as you would wish, so I need to know exactly what you want!'

    He laughed aloud then. 'You, mademoiselle , were doing nothing of the kind.' Why had he never noticed her mischievous sense of humour before now? Why had he never noticed what an entertaining companion she could be when she put her mind to it? The truth was, he decided with a sinking feeling, that whenever Felice had been in the room he'd had eyes for nobody else. With her sultry beauty and her vivacious nature she had utterly bewitched him.

    Flicking the reins in renewed irritation, he turned the curricle for home.

CHAPTER THREE

    His eyes, which a moment ago had been twinkling with amusement, had gone dull and lifeless. It was as though he had retreated into a dark and lonely room, slamming the shutters against her.

    She was positively relieved to get home, where her maman greeted her with enthusiasm.

    'I never thought to have secured such a brilliant match for my plain daughter!' she beamed. 'But we must do something about your attire,' she said as Heloise untied the ribbons of the one bonnet she possessed. 'He cannot want people thinking he is marrying a dowd.'

    Hustling her up the newly carpeted stairs to the room she had shared with Felice, her mother grumbled, 'We do not have time to cut down one of Felice's gowns before tonight. If only I had known,' she complained, flinging open the doors to the armoire, 'that you would be the one to marry into the nobility, we could have laid out a little capital on your wardrobe.'

    Nearly all the dresses hanging there belonged to Felice. From the day the allies had marched into Paris the previous summer, what money her parents had been able to spare had been spent on dressing her sister. She had, after all, been the Bergeron family's secret weapon. She had flirted and charmed her way through the ranks of the occupying forces, playing the coquette to the hilt, whilst adroitly managing to hang onto her virtue, catapulting the family to the very heart of the new society which had rapidly formed to replace Napoleon's court.

    'Nobody could have foreseen such an unlikely event,' Heloise replied rather dispiritedly, hitching her hip onto her bed.

    She worried at her lower lip. What was her sister going to do now? She had left carrying only a modest bundle of possessions, and her young husband would not have the means to provide either the kind of dress allowance she had enjoyed for so long, nor the stimulating company of the upper echelons of society.

    Heloise sighed. 'What about the lilac muslin?' she suggested. It was quite her favourite dress. She always felt that it made her look almost girlishly attractive, though the underskirt, which went with the full, shorter overdress, was embroidered about the hem with violets. Surely she could not be taken for a supporter of Bonaparte if she appeared in public on the arm of an Englishman?

    'Where is His Lordship taking you tonight?' her maman enquired sharply.

    'To the theatre first, and then on to Tortoni's for ices.'

    Her mother clicked her tongue. 'Muslin to the theatre? I should think not!' she snapped, entirely overlooking the political symbolism of the violets, Bonaparte's