Wedding Night Revenge by MARY BRENDAN Read Free Book Online Page A

turned to greet the gentleman accompanying the Earl. With an inaudible murmur of recognition, Rachel identified him as his stepbrother, Jason Davenport. The soprano's sable curls bounced prettily as she went on tip-toe to whisper in her lover's ear. Then her lips were hovering close to Jason's fair hair as a little intimate conversation was bestowed on him, too.
    Th£ woman was revelling in the role of femme fa- tale, Rachel realised. She adored the undivided attention it brought her, whilst pretending to be unaware of it. And now, having theatrically sketched her territory to the ladies present, she was apparently satisfied. She slipped an olive-skinned hand through the crook of one arm of each of her companions and the trio proceeded slowly up the snake of stairway.
    As they neared the top, Rachel came to her senses and jerked her head away from the sight of the two tall, urbane gentlemen and the dainty, voluptuous woman swaying sinuously between them. It was only then she became aware that a number of people with long memories and malice on their minds were now openly staring at her. While she had been observing the man who had once been her fiance with his mistress—and she was quite aware now, as was everyone, that the woman held that position in his life—she had been, in turn, eagerly watched. Her reaction to that rousing little tableau had doubtless been part of the entertainment, for tomorrow, in their clubs and drawing rooms, they could leisurely dissect it, embellish it, read in to it what they would.
    Her sister's prospective mother-in-law was standing close by with Lady Winthrop. The tubby Baroness was slyly regarding her. So was Pamela Pemberton, who seemed equally amused. Much to her chagrin, Rachel could feel betraying blood seeping into her cheeks, confirming their suspicions over her sensitivity to the scene.
    The woman is a spiteful bitch, Rachel realised with a pang of pity for her sweet sister's plight. That depressing thought was joined by another: her guilt at having a hand in inextricably linking June's future to Pamela's. She'd been the one to introduce June to William before she fully comprehended what an old besom was his mother. Thank heavens William was nothing like her in looks or character! He seemed to favour his father. Alexander Pemberton had always seemed to Rachel to be a kind and civil man with a pleasanter countenance than his sharp-featured wife possessed and none of her airs and graces.
    Rachel succeeded in wiping the smirks from their faces by forcing a serene smile. With a hissed instruction for June to prepare for action, she linked arms with her younger sister and went to do battle.
    Without preamble or even a greeting for her son's future wife, Pamela launched into, 'We were just saying, Miss Meredith, was that not the Irish gentleman you once were—?'

    'Oh, well spotted, Mrs Pemberton! How very clever of you to recall it all from so many years ago. La, but I had almost forgot about it myself. How odd that such a trifle has intrigued you for the duration. Yes, it is indeed the gentlemen I refused to marry. And how nice it is to feel comforted by one's youthful conduct. I swear at the time, for a day or so at least, I was in two minds...'
    Lady Winthrop smiled thinly, and faux surprise sent her sooty eyebrows soaring into her chalky forehead. 'I find that hard to believe, Miss Meredith.
    'Tis indeed strange that an unwed lady, her debut far behind her, should congratulate herself on having rejected such an eligible catch. Why, above half of the debutantes at Almack's on Wednesday could speak of nothing but Lord Devane and how best to hook his attention. The remainder were already spoken for and looking quite put out. I own I grew mighty tired of hearing young ladies lisping his praises.' Her sparse lashes fluttered at the ceiling, her voice chanted in a squeaky pitch, 'How handsome he is, how charming he is, how rich he is...'
    'How unavailable he is...' Rachel descanted.
    Lady