The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) by Stella Riley Read Free Book Online

physically, she wasn’t at all the type of female he admired.   Trying to engage her in conversation was like
pulling teeth and, as for luring her into flirtation, he’d virtually given up
hope. In short, if it hadn’t been for the money, he wouldn’t have looked at her
twice.   And the only way he could
tolerate the idea of being stuck with her for life was by reminding himself
that her dowry would enable him to redeem the mortgage on his least favourite
and most distant estate and leave her there.
    The dance drew to a close. Mr Sterne restored the
girl to his cousin’s side and lingered to exchange polite pleasantries.   Marcus forced himself to wait and managed not
to grind his teeth.   Finally, Sterne made
his bows and sauntered off in the direction of the card room.   Marcus gave it another half-minute and closed
in on his prey.
    Caroline saw him approaching and felt the usual
frisson of nerves.   He wasn’t at all like
Mr Sterne who chatted easily about this person and that in a way she found both
relaxing and informative.   Lord
Sheringham wasn’t relaxing at all.   He was
extremely handsome, enormously sophisticated and a Baron – which meant he was the
only gentleman currently showing an interest in her who would also meet Mama’s
requirements.   She wanted to like him because
she felt she should and because she knew she could probably do much worse. She’d
been prepared to settle for any man who still had all his own teeth, so his
lordship’s good looks had to be considered a bonus. Consequently, if he made
her an offer, she told herself she’d be a fool not to accept it.   The trouble was that she didn’t know quite
what to make of him.   He had a habit of
fixing her with his startlingly blue eyes as if he was waiting for some
specific reaction which eluded her.   And
when that happened, she always ended up feeling even more tongue-tied and
stupid than usual.
    ‘Lady Brassington.   Your servant, ma’am.   And Mistress
Maitland.’   He favoured her with a
brilliant smile and bowed over her hand.   ‘You are looking particularly delightful this evening.’
    Caroline knew she didn’t look delightful at all but
she gave him points for civility and tried not to dwell on the fact that it was
the kind of thing an aspiring suitor was supposed to say.
    ‘You’re very kind, sir.’
    ‘Not at all.   Your gown is a refreshing change from the pink tones favoured by so many
of the young ladies.’ He smiled again.   ‘If you are not engaged and if her ladyship permits … perhaps you would
honour me with the next dance?’
    Caroline curtsied and cautiously returned his
smile.
    ‘I would be happy to do so, sir.   Thank you.’
    She took his hand and let him lead her on to the
floor, gloomily wondering if she’d ever get beyond bland inanities or stop
worrying that the ladylike accent she’d been taught four years ago at school
might at any moment lapse into the broad Yorkshire of her Mama and sisters.
    It was an old-fashioned, formal minuet … the kind
that very few hostesses included these days.   But it suited Marcus’s purposes in that it allowed plenty of opportunity
for gazing into her eyes in a way calculated to make her blush.   She never did, of course.   It was one of the things he was beginning to
find most irritating about her.   When
subjected to his compelling stare, even the most experienced ladies were wont
to become a trifle heated.   Little Miss
Halifax, on the other hand, merely looked perpetually baffled.
    Deciding that, time being of the essence, some
action was called for, he said, ‘I feel that I have been remiss in not making
the acquaintance of your mother, Mistress Maitland.   If you are free, may I call tomorrow? And
then, if she has no objection, perhaps I could take you driving in the park?’
    Caroline’s nerves went into spasm at the thought
of his lordship in the dismal little house in Kensington and the likely nature
of Mama’s reception of him.