An Extraordinary Flirtation Read Online Free PDF Page A

holding court in their carriage, which was not the most fashionable of the equipages present, a circumstance no one was likely to notice in light of the glorious creatures so gracefully displayed there. Ianthe attracted her own admirers, although she did not encourage them, and Zoe had so many swains that they were known to her family as Zoe’s Zoo, among them a duke (married), an earl (not married, although he should have been), several viscounts, a baronet, and an elderly knight, as well as hopeful commoners from Abethell to Zike.
    Fitz was one of the few gentlemen in London not struck noodle-headed by the beauty of the family. He had also thought his friend to be in that minority, but now he wondered, as Nicky bent over the older woman’s hand. If a paler version of her cousin—Ianthe’s hair was merely gold instead of tinged with red; her eyes robin’s egg blue instead of sapphire, the skin around them taut with strain—she still remained beautiful at five-and-thirty, rather in the style of a great actress renowned for tragic roles.
    At the moment, she also looked ready to sink. “Lord Mannering! I didn’t realize—Or perhaps I mistake the matter and she didn’t—Oh, if only I could assure myself of that!”
    “Pray do not regard it,” he murmured, as the young woman under discussion watched the exchange with wide-eyed innocence. When the marquess glanced at her, she fluttered her lashes and allowed a becoming flush to tinge her delicate cheeks.
    Baggage, thought Fitz, without appreciation. Not that he could fault Zoe in appearance, for she wore a pale blue muslin pelisse over a white muslin walking dress, and a charming straw bonnet trimmed with wreaths of flowers, the strings fastened with a bow behind. Her red-gold hair was cut in a smart crop and arranged in close curls that crept out from beneath the bonnet to caress her perfect face. In addition to those lovely eyes, she had a charming little nose, lush lips, and dimples, two of them.
    She was also short. Fitz didn’t like short females. Or chits right out of the schoolroom who threatened to tumble gentlemen who should have known better smack heels over head. He watched Nick stroll around to the other side of the carriage and muttered, “Damned if I remember when I last had an ice.”
    “Oh! I am so sorry!” Ianthe practically wrung her hands. “Perhaps if we were to ask a waiter—I’m sure they would bring you something other than an ice—Perhaps a nice cup of tea!”
    Fitz was ashamed of himself. It was hardly fair of him to take out his ill humor on Ianthe, who had borne the responsibility for her cousin square on her slender shoulders practically from the moment of that young woman’s birth. No wonder she looked so drawn and pale. Not that anyone could look other than pale in that dreadful outfit. Spanish pelisse of shot sarcenet trimmed with Egyptian crepe and antique cuffs trimmed with Chinese binding; lemon-colored kid gloves and slippers; reticule of painted velvet; Gypsy hat of satin straw with edge a la cheveux de fries, tied with a colored handkerchief.
    Ianthe interrupted his ruminations with a compliment concerning his waistcoast. Fitz beamed at her. “Guthrie’s in Cork Street!” A discussion of embroidery stitches followed, from satin stitch to pearling, tambour stitch to herringbone.
    If Lord Mannering was interested in this conversation, and he appeared to be, Zoe was not. “How providential,” she murmured, with a practiced sideways glance, “that we should meet here today.”
    The marquess looked pensive. “Apparently my memory isn’t what it used to be. I seem to recall a missive requesting that I discover in myself an overwhelming desire for a sorbet.”
    Zoe regarded him reproachfully. “You’re not eatinga sorbet! It’s an age since we’ve seen you, Lord Mannering. I was beginning to think myself forgot.”
    Nick studied the vivid little face turned so en-chantingly toward his. “Impossible that anyone should