The Primrose Path by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

approximately thirty minutes with Bunny. No, she amended her mental calculations, the viscount was the most pigheaded, stubborn person she knew. He hadn’t given up on getting the cottage yet, by fair means or foul, and he wouldn’t give up on Bunny for at least an hour before conceding. She was quite certain she wouldn’t see Lord Knowle before noon.
    Since his lordship was also the most practiced flirt she’d ever encountered, Angelina considered the extra time a bonus, especially given that kiss.
    She didn’t count the first, hasty touch of lips, only that second, heart-stopping embrace. It was her first real kiss, and the first time she’d been held since she was four. Unhappily for her peace of mind, Angelina had liked it very well indeed. Feelings she didn’t know she possessed threatened to overwhelm her good sense. Why, she hadn’t even slapped the viscount the second time. She hadn’t set Ajax on him, hadn’t screamed for the servants. Worse, she was desperately afraid she wouldn’t protest the next time, either—if there should ever be a next time.
    His lordship was merely amusing himself, Angelina knew. Dogs chased rabbits, as he must be discovering this very instant, and rakes tried to seduce every available woman. Therefore, she simply had to make sure that she was not available. Hence all the tables were cleared of bric-a-brac, and Ajax reclined next to her desk, next to the sofa, and next to the fireplace. The viscount would not find Miss Armstead an easy conquest.
    Unlike the idle gentleman, Angelina had risen at seven, broken her fast, helped feed and exercise the dogs, and given the schoolchildren their lessons and assignments. She nibbled on a sweet bun while she contemplated the letters in front of her ... and her future. Perhaps she should consider finding herself a husband, now that she had a dowry to bring to the marriage, and now that she’d briefly tasted the benefits of marital relations. Of course no man she met was like to equal the viscount’s expertise in such matters, which was a good thing for unmarried women everywhere, and an unfortunate thing for married ones.
    No, she decided, a husband was for the future. Today was for the dogs and for her own past. One letter was to the architect, asking him to call about beginning work on the proposed dog hospital. The other letter was to a London gentleman of Lady Sophie’s acquaintance who dabbled in unsolved mysteries, criminal proceedings, and private inquiries. Mr. Truesdale had agreed to conduct an investigation on Angelina’s behalf. She wanted him to expend whatever funds were necessary, hire as many assistants, offer as much reward money as would bring results. One day she might have a husband; once she’d had a sister.
    * * * *
    Her estimation was off by an hour. Lord Knowle must have been even less willing to admit defeat than she’d supposed. In either case, Angelina was glad she’d dismissed the children early. Their vocabularies did not need such enrichment.
    “The blasted bitch chases rabbits. Every rabbit, every which way. There’s no holding her back, no calling her to heel.”
    “That’s why she’s called Bunny, my lord.”
    He was too angry to listen. “Rabbits are the only thing she chases, by Jupiter! A fox ran right across her path, and what did the featherheaded hound do? She kept on, after another rabbit. I had to drag her out of every spinney and hedgerow for miles.”
    And he looked it, too. His hat was missing, his boots were scuffed and covered in mud, his hair was littered with twigs and leaves. He’d have given up sooner if he hadn’t had to confess his failure to this prune-faced prig in another shapeless black gown and floppy black mobcap. Corin noticed that she kept her elephantine protector between them at all times, reminding him of yet another lapse in his good judgment. “A pox upon the miserable beast. No one will ever make a decent hunter out of the bitch, and she’d ruin any pack she was