A Regency Match Read Online Free PDF Page A

been replaced by a dove-gray walking dress, and her noteworthy auburn hair was now covered by a bergère hat tied in place with a modest lilac ribbon. No wonder he couldn’t place her.
    Unable to resist an impulse to set the arrogant, forgetful Lord Wynwood at a loss, she made a deep bow and said sweetly, “Good day, Lord Wynwood.” She was gleefully aware that, although she’d learned his identity, he’d never learned hers. He would therefore be at an awkward disadvantage. The imperturbable, cold Earl of Wynwood was in an embarrassing position, and she would have the pleasure of watching him squirm.
    There was, however, no trace of awkwardness in the Earl’s manner or his expression. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he replied smoothly, with an answering bow.
    Sophy had no intention of letting him off so easily. She decided to continue the conversation and force him to acknowledge his ignorance. But she noticed that a young woman who’d been standing near his lordship had looked up from her book with a questioning glance. She was evidently in his company, for she put down her book and took Lord Wynwood’s arm. The lady was a tall, elegant creature with dusky-gold hair, a swan-like neck and alabaster skin. Although she looked vaguely familiar, Sophy didn’t bother to identify her. She was occupied with an amused sense of triumph: the Earl would have to introduce them. She would have him now !
    â€œMay I present Miss Bethune?” Lord Wynwood murmured, his brow wrinkling as he desperately tried to remember who this girl was. “Iris, this is … is …”
    Miss Bethune put out her hand. “Miss Edgerton, is it not? I believe we met last year at Lady March’s birthday fete. How delightful to meet you again. I didn’t know you were acquainted with Miss Edgerton, Marcus.”
    â€œWell, I—” Lord Wynwood gestured helplessly, still unable to jar his memory.
    â€œI say, Sophy,” Bertie called from across the aisle, “take a look at this .” He waved a book at her as his riding boots clumped across the floor. “It’s called A Wicked Lady , and it’s absolutely shock —Oh!” He stopped short, stared at Lord Wynwood and his face flooded with color.
    â€œGood heavens,” Lord Wynwood muttered, his eyes lighting in recognition, “it’s Bertie !”
    â€œBertie?” Iris Bethune asked, turning to the Earl with her eyebrows raised.
    Lord Wynwood smiled, both relieved that he remembered and amused at Miss Edgerton’s obvious embarrassment. “Forgive me, my dear,” he explained to Miss Bethune, “but I suddenly recalled where Miss Edgerton and I had met. It was at the Gilberts’ ball. On that occasion, Miss Edgerton took me for Bertie here.”
    â€œTook you for—?” Miss Bethune stared at Bertie nonplussed. “I don’t understand …”
    â€œNever mind,” Lord Wynwood said firmly. “It’s much too long a story, and we shall be late for our luncheon with Stanford. Good day, Miss Edgerton. Good day, Bertie, old fellow. I do hope you’ll excuse us from the amenities. We must be off.” And with a smooth but hasty efficiency, Lord Wynwood nodded to them both and turned Miss Bethune toward the door.
    Lawrence Dillingham hurried up to Bertie and, in what was meant to be a whisper, asked, “I say, who’s the Bond Street Beau? I’ve never seen such a magnificent coat!” His voice, even in his attempted whisper, had a penetrating quality which carried throughout the store. Up and down the aisles, heads turned and eyes glinted in their efforts to obtain a glimpse of the Bond Street Beau in the magnificent coat. Sophy could see Lord Wynwood’s back stiffen as he steered Miss Bethune to the door with quickened steps. “Really, Mr. Dillingham,” she hissed in a furious undervoice, “couldn’t your remarks have waited