The Savage Marquess by M.C. Beaton Read Free Book Online

boon to anyone wanting to escape the harsh realities of the present.
    Ismene lay back against the pillows while Lucinda read on with every appearance of great enjoyment.
    In fifteen minutes Ismene was fast asleep. Lucinda stopped reading and cast her an amused look.
    “I think I know how to deal with you now, my lady,” she said in an amused voice as she left the room.
    But Lucinda did not yet know the extent of Ismene’s talent for humiliation.
    The next day, when various gentlemen who had danced with Ismene the night before came to call, as was the custom, Ismene choked off any masculine interest in her pretty companion by dismissing Kennedy and treating Lucinda like a maid, even ordering her to make up the fire.
    Lucinda thought of her father and performed all the tasks set her quietly and efficiently.
    The Earl of Clifton would certainly have protested against Lucinda’s being treated so shabbily, but he had retired to his study and his countess never saw anything wrong in her daughter’s behavior at any time.
    Then at five o’clock Ismene and Lucinda went off in an open carriage to join the fashionables in the park. There was a brisk wind blowing. Ismene was carrying a dainty parasol. A particularly strong gust seized it out of her hand and blew it across the grass in the direction of the Serpentine. The coachman, hearing Ismene’s cry of distress, reined in the horses.
    “Go and fetch my parasol, Lucinda,” said Ismene. Lucinda cast an eloquent look toward the tall footman on the backstrap, who immediately jumped down.
    “Stay, John!” commanded Ismene, stopping the footman in his tracks. “My companion shall fetch it.”
    Lucinda gave Ismene a startled look, for this was surely persecution beginning to edge on the vulgar. But she climbed down from the carriage and set off in pursuit of Ismene’s lilac lace parasol, which was briskly tumbling across the grass.
    She picked up her skirts and began to run as hard as she could to try to stop the parasol before it blew into the Serpentine. There came the thud of hooves, a horse flashed in front of her. Its rider bent low and snatched up the parasol, rode a little way away, wheeled about, and cantered back to where Lucinda stood. Lucinda found herself looking up into the mocking eyes of the Marquess of Rockingham. He swung himself down from the saddle, bowed, and held out the lilac parasol. Lucinda took it and thanked him. He called to Chumley, who came riding up. The valet, who accompanied him everywhere, as his lordship’s grooms never stayed very long in his employ, dismounted and held the marquess’s horse as well as his own.
    The marquess fell into step beside Lucinda. “Well, Atalanta,” he mocked, “it was indeed a pleasure to watch you in the chase.”
    “I am grateful to you, my lord,” said Lucinda stiffly. “There is no need to accompany me to the carriage.”
    “‘Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,’” he quoted. “Remark on her courtiers, Miss Westerville, and see how a harsh tongue and an unpleasant disposition will succeed in attracting only man-milliners.”
    Lucinda saw that Ismene was now holding court to five young exquisites. Their high, mincing voices were borne on the wind. As Lucinda approached with the marquess, Ismene said, “Ah, here is my lazy servant at last. Such a problem finding suitable girls these days.”
    “La, Lady Ismene,” cried one, kissing his fingers, “would I had the honor to be allowed to serve you.”
    The marquess gently tugged the parasol from Lucinda’s hand.
    Ismene bestowed on the marquess her most dazzling smile. “Rockingham,” she cried, “’tis most kind of you to help my lazy Lucinda.”
    A sardonic smile curled the marquess’s lips. “Your parasol, I think,” he said. He snapped it in two and threw the pieces on the ground.
    One of Lucinda’s courtiers began to bluster. “Fie, for shame, Rockingham.”
    “Go on. Call me out,” said the marquess nastily.
    The five young men began