The Luckiest Lady In London by Sherry Thomas Read Free Book Online Page A

upright, old-fashioned,
incestuous
Lord Firth? Was Lord Wrenworth telling the truth? But if not, why bother with such outrageous lies?
    “But of course I would never have breathed a word of it, were I not concerned for your limited stay in London. I would hate for you to have wasted your time on gentlemen who are not worthy of your time, let alone your attention.”
    Her head reeled. “Thank you for your kind concern, sir. But perhaps you should never have said a word even so.”
    “You are correct. There are reputations at stake. But how could I remain silent, knowing it would lead to your severe disappointment at the end of the Season, my dear Miss Cantwell, when in your case there is just as much, if not more, at stake?”
    The music should have come to a complete halt at that point, but Herr Strauss’s waltz played on, as blithe and cheery as ever. And Louisa had no choice but to continue to turn about the dance floor with Lord Wrenworth.
    For no good reason under the sun, her dismay seemed to magnify the physical pleasure of the dance. The warmth of his hand at her waist, the rain-cool scent of his person, theswiftness and surety of their spins—their bodies braced in a perfect equilibrium between tension and cohesion.
    When they finally pulled apart at the end of the dance, he offered her his arm to walk her back to Lady Balfour. His manner was impeccable as always, but somehow she knew that he was enjoying himself to an indecent extent.
    “Do you delight in my misfortunes, my lord?” she asked, too unhappy to be diplomatic.
    “Never,” he declared, a devilish light in his eyes.
    “You, sir, are about as believable as a lordling who promises a milkmaid that his heart will never stray,” she said, her tone more vehement than it should have been.
    He only smiled.
    W hen Mr. Pitt arrived later that evening, he came immediately to pay his respects to Louisa. But any relief she felt quickly dissipated as she noticed, for the first time, how frequently Mr. Pitt glanced toward one particular Miss Lovett. Miss Lovett was an heiress whose dowry was said to include large tracts of properties in Bath and Bristol; the way Mr. Pitt looked at Miss Lovett was obviously the expression of someone who knew he was not doing his duty and was fearful of the consequences.
    When Lord Firth appeared with his sister, Miss Edwards, she gave Louisa her usual look of loathing. Louisa had always attributed it to sisterly possessiveness, which would diminish or perhaps disappear altogether when Miss Edwards finally had her own heart set on someone. But now plain to view was the way Miss Edwards wantonly pressed her much-exposed bosom into her half brother’s upper arm, and the way she liked to speak, loverlike, lips to skin, directly into his ear.
    Not only a jealous sister, but a jealous mistress as well.
    And of course—of course—whose eye should she catchat that moment of horrific realization? From across the ballroom, Lord Wrenworth lifted a brow, as if to say,
What did I tell you?
    She retired early from the festivities that night, beset by not only a persistent headache, but also a sense of inchoate nausea. Lady Balfour, blissfully ignorant of everything that had taken place, thought Louisa had done quite well. “A dance with Wrenworth, why, that’s always reason for cheer.”
    If Lord Wrenworth had spoken the truth, Louisa supposed she should be grateful to him. But she could not, for he had not been out to help, but to injure.
    She spent a sleepless night. The next morning she rose, determined to regroup. But wife and family were expensive propositions. There were more eligible females than males. And many gentlemen chose to remain bachelors. All of which made good proposals difficult to come by.
    She danced; she chatted; she assessed each man who passed her way for his potential. Most men looked for heiresses themselves, or at least a wife who had
some
dowry. And those few for whom dowries were secondary concerns wanted a