A Most Delicate Pursuit Read Online Free PDF Page A

banns.”
    Amelia stood up. Though a petite woman, her stature far outmeasured any man’s Ash had ever known. “You can’t let this happen. We don’t even know what sort of man this fellow is.”
    Ash let out a breath. “On the contrary, I do know what sort he is. Wealthy, powerful, and cruel first come to mind. Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of handing her over.”
    “What will you do?”
    “Get her married as soon as possible, is what. The courts rarely go against an established marriage. The sooner, the better. I’m afraid her very life may depend upon it.”
    —
    There can be many things in life that one regrets. Missed opportunities, harsh words spoken that can never be unsaid. Entanglements that one couldn’t avoid—or rather should have but didn’t. The foolishness of youth and the desperation of loneliness. A bitter drink to swallow, but when one must claim them all, it was weight beyond measure.
    Taking a deep breath, Michael prepared to face his past. He found his former lover in the upstairs parlor. The sitting room meant for Summerton’s visitors had been designed for comfort. Large, overstuffed chaise lounges, a bracing fire in the fireplace, high windows with thick burgundy velvet drapes.
    Dimly lit, with the afternoon shades drawn, he saw the figure of his former mistress seated in the farthest corner of the room. A dark beauty, he suddenly got the sense she belonged in the shadows. She sat as still as stone, her spine straight, shoulders back, and arms crossed in front of her. Wearing a black mourning gown, with matching hat and gloves, his former lover was the perfect picture of the grieving widow.
    For years, she’d pretended concern for her husband, doting on him endlessly in public. But her attentions didn’t come without a cost.
    He had the scars to prove it.
    Ten years older than he, she carried her age well. Her hair pulled in a severe chignon, and wearing the scent of an expensive French perfume, she was the height of fashion. A tall, austere woman, her beauty was legendary and her temperament one of cool guile and cunning. Had she been a man, Constance would have commanded armies. As a woman, she commanded any man who dared venture too close to her.
    He easily remembered her green eyes and her small, slightly upturned nose. But it was her lush, inviting mouth and narrow chin that made a man beg for her attentions. Men flocked to her like bees to honey, and she opened herself to each one as if they’d been her first, true love.
    She was considered to be one of the most intriguing women of the ton, and Michael had been fascinated by her from the very first.
    Of course, at the time, he’d barely been out of the schoolroom, nearly sixteen when they’d had their first tryst. She’d been a kind and generous lover, teaching him all that he needed to know when it came to bedroom affairs. Later, after his many failed attempts at courtship, Constance had found him on a night when he’d been vulnerable and too deep in his cups to resist her charms.
    Young fool that he was, he’d have stayed with her if he hadn’t been ordered home by his father. Upon arrival, he’d learned that his father had already arranged his marriage to a wealthy baron’s daughter.
    Though he’d tried his best, marriage hadn’t agreed with him, and fidelity less so for his wife. They hadn’t been married long when his wife had gotten caught in a terrible scandal. She’d written him a letter, in which she’d blamed him for her unhappiness. Immediately after, she took her own life. Though no one directly blamed him, Michael felt responsible.
    Distraught at his failure as both a son and a husband, he’d thought his life was over. The very day he’d returned home from burying his wife, Constance had been waiting for him. It hadn’t taken much convincing before he climbed into her carriage and threw himself into oblivion for the three months that followed. He only left because the war had taken a turn and