The Secret Mistress by Mary Balogh Read Free Book Online Page A

and closest friends and he would not let them down, supposing that
they
braved the drizzle and the chill, that was.
    They both did.
    Edward’s stomach was feeling rather queasy, and he was tired after a night of what he might have thought had been sleepless if there were not the memory of bizarre dreams, all of which had proceeded along the same general lines. In one he had begun his speech in the House of Lords with a flourish until he had faltered at the realization that he had forgotten to put on any clothes before leaving home. In another, he had got up to speak, opened his mouth, noted the respectful attention with which all his fellow peers were regarding him, and realized that he had forgotten to bring either his notes or his memory with him.
    “Damnation,” Sir George Headley said as they rode through the park together. “I counted upon the Row being deserted this morning. I need a good gallop to blow away the fumes of too much imbibing last night. It is a good thing my brother can turn twenty-one only once in his life.”
    Rotten Row was indeed surprisingly crowded with riders, some of them ambling along on their mounts, others moving at a brisker canter, some few flying along at a more reckless gallop—reckless because the grass was slippery with moisture and any bare patches of earth were slick with mud.
    “We might as well take a turn up and down anyway,” Ambrose Paulson said from Edward’s other side. He grinned as they rode onto the Row. “Ed is looking rather green about the gills and in dire need of air and exercise, even though
you
were the one doing the drinking, George. But he has a maiden speech to deliver. I wish we might hear it.”
    “No, you do not,” Edward assured them both. “Doubtlesseveryone in the House will be snoring before I reach the second paragraph.”
    “They will all thank you afterward for providing them with a good chance to rest,” George said, and all three of them chuckled.
    Edward breathed in lungfuls of fresh air and ignored the discomfort of water droplets clinging to his face. He began to relax a little, and they rode in companionable silence for several minutes while he mentally rehearsed his speech yet again.
    It was George who broke the silence.
    “Good Lord,” he said suddenly, bringing his horse to a near halt and forcing his two friends to prance about on either side of him while they slowed their own mounts, “what the devil is
that
?”
    That
, Edward saw when he followed the direction of his friend’s gaze down the Row, was a woman. At first, though only for the merest moment, he thought she was surely a courtesan. She was cantering toward a group of young men, all sunny smiles, while a groom shadowed her a little distance behind. What other sort of lady would be out alone at this hour and in weather like this, after all?
    The answer to his unspoken question came to him during that merest moment.
    The
same
sort of lady as one who would stand alone in a public taproom, posed provocatively in a clinging bright pink muslin dress as she gazed through a window, oblivious to the effect she was having upon two males standing behind her.
    Not just the same
sort
of lady, of course.
    The very same one, in fact.
    Edward watched, appalled, as she rode into the midst of the group of young men, none of whom he knew, talking volubly as she went. He did not hear the first few words, but then her voice became more audible.
    “… must have decided to go somewhere else, the provoking man. I was about to turn about and go back home when I spotted
you
. I was never so glad of anything in my life. But you must absolutely
promise
not to say a word, Ferdie. He would doubtless cut up nasty though it would be grossly unfair. How was I to know he wasnot coming here? This is where
everyone
comes to ride. I will ride with you and your friends instead. You will not mind, will you?”
    She bestowed the dazzle of her smile upon the group at large. As Edward and his friends rode on