The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex Read Free Book Online

prepared. And really, he’d already been gone from her life for so long it hardly mattered.
    She had what she needed.
    A house. A place to live her life according to her own tastes and the dictates of her education. A place where she could develop her own style of living and thinking. Her happiness was nearly complete.
    All that remained was to see the house. Her head was teeming with ideas for it. With ideas for how she would learn to manage it and the land. How she would learn useful skills and truly merit her place in this world. Live a life of purpose and usefulness, not one of idle, pampered indulgence.
    Her lady mother’s chief skill, other than her exquisite embroidery, was the ability to charm and delight anyone and everyone who came within the warmth of her circle—a pleasant, gracious woman. Celia and any number of young ladies of her acquaintance were content to live their lives as pleasing, decorative ornaments for their suitors, husbands, and society in general. But Lizzie could not. She would not.
    She was simply not made for idleness or stillness. She could not sit quietly when she might be out of doors, walking, riding, or sailing. Doing something. Despite the calculated air of indifference she had achieved, she had never been content to lounge about drawing rooms, waiting for life, for experience, to come to her.
    Because she did not possess, nor had she been able to cultivate, the happy talent of making men feel pleased with themselves. In fact, she rather made them feel the opposite—edgy and uncomfortable—with her sharp observations and tart tongue.
    But now that she had the security of her marriage, she could truly do as she pleased. It was a heady thought.
    A small but elegant wedding breakfast, attended only by her parents and Jamie’s, was held at Hightop House. Mama’s arrangements were, as always, beautiful and charming. Flowers from the gardens graced the tables and their scents filled the moist early summer air with heady perfume. Jamie sat next to her at the long, linen-draped table, looking both very handsome and very pleased with himself, though he spent the meal being wonderfully charming and solicitous of her mother and his own.
    “How disappointed I am,” her mother was saying, “to find you must leave us so soon, dear Captain.”
    He was a wonder to watch, this accomplished man, his comportment easy and laughing, his manners fine as French brandy and his clothing tailored to perfection. The very image of the prosperous, happy bridegroom.
    It made her wonder if she imagined it, the dark masculine hunger that slid from his eyes when he looked at her from under that errant lock of dark hair as he answered.
    “It is unfortunate, Lady Theodora, but duty calls.”
    No, she hadn’t imagined it. For Papa could see it, or sense it. It was the only explanation she could find that would account for his bristling hostility and stubborn objections.
    And clearly, her father was still opposed, though the deed was already done. His face remained a study in tense resignation. He sat through the meal as if he were having a tooth pulled: unhappy, uncomfortable, and very nearly in pain.
    His brooding silence affected the Reverend Marlowe, who was nothing like his normal, garrulous self. The rector mirrored his host, lapsing into uneasy silence. Without Mama’s and Jamie’s efforts, the whole affair would likely have been an unmitigated disaster.
    “But you will at least spend some time with us before you go. You will of course spend your wedding night here. I’ve had the blue room prepared so you might have the east wing to yourself.”
    Lizzie nearly choked on her wine. Wedding night? Here? Mama had never so much as mentioned it to her. Good Lord, what an idea. Whatever Jamie’s dark looks held, she was not about to discover it in her childhood home. She needed to begin as she meant to go on. Independently.
    “I thank you, my lady, but I had thought to spend the evening more privately. I have