Autumn Glory and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

the sins of fox hunting yet. She ain’t been next or nigh him.”
    Lady Bannister dismissed her youngest child’s vagaries; she’d given up on drumming the rudiments of decorum into the thick red head ages ago. She nervously rearranged the items on his lordship’s dresser. “There’s more. I cannot rest easy with a rake in the house.”
    Isa tried to smother a snicker. She couldn’t be fearing for her own virtue, not in those five yards of flannel. “Don’t see how anyone not up to snuff got on your invite list anyway.”
    “I didn’t invite Sir Evan Farrell, you jackanapes. As if I ever would, when we are not even at home to him in London. Lord Rothingham got the gout, so the baronet escorted Lady Rothingham, of all the luck. She’s his godmother, can you believe it? And still one of the highest sticklers in polite society. I couldn’t do anything but ask him to stay, even if he is a womanizer and a gambler.”
    “Don’t see what’s got you in the boughs. The fellow’s a man milliner. Barely sits a horse. Not even Iselle is ninnyhammer enough to take some coxcomb over a regular out-and-outer like Wingate. ’Sides, I ain’t heard much talk about Farrell in the clubs recently, no duels, debts, or debauches. Nothing to his discredit except his taste in clothes.” He snorted. “Farrell’s naught but a caper merchant.”
    Now it was Irene’s turn to sneer. “If you could see beyond your fat red nose, you’d know Sir Evan is also devilishly handsome, with every compliment to turn a girl’s head on the tip of his silver tongue. I had to warn him off some years ago, but it was easier to divert Iselle’s attention in London than here at our own house party. You’ll just have to work a little harder on Wingate.”
    What Lord Bannister wanted most from the viscount was that steel gray stallion for stud. He also wanted a good night’s sleep without his wife’s prune face giving him nightmares, so he nodded and bowed and swore to have a private talk with Wingate on the morrow.
    *
    Most of the company was assembled in the drawing room before dinner when Lord Bannister strolled in with a smile on his face and his arm about Lord Wingate’s shoulders. They’d come to terms about the stallion; somehow Iselle’s name never entered the conversation. Isa’s smile disappeared when he caught his wife’s eager expression. He solemnly shook his head no, glad he was across the room.
    Wingate also took note of the silent communication between his host and hostess, and grinned to himself. It was a near-run thing. As his eyes scanned the roomful of elegantly dressed lords and ladies, he observed how Glory was dressed this evening in shell pink sarcenet, which brought out the flames in her hair, even across the room. He saw she was quick to offer another glass of ratafia to Lady Rothingham as soon as he entered. The middle sister, Inessa, was doing her duty by quietly conversing with the local cleric, a likable young fellow named Allbright. That sister was a sweet, well-behaved miss, from all Wingate had observed, with the eldest’s beauty but not the same allure. Inessa was more reserved, not a social butterfly like the stunning Miss Snodgrass.
    His mother had been right: Iselle Snodgrass was one of the most beautiful creatures he’d seen, in the boudoirs and ballrooms of half the European capitals. She’d make a lovely duchess, if he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing the social rounds with a gorgeous goosecap. If ever there was a chit with more hair than wit, it was Miss Iselle Snodgrass. Why, she couldn’t even be on time for dinner, he saw, watching Lady Bannister’s anxious eyes keep flicking toward the door.
    Wingate was listening idly to Lord Bannister crowing to his neighbor Frye about the mare he was going to breed, when he caught Lady Bannister crook her finger toward her youngest daughter. Glory bounced over to her mother’s seat—Lud, the chit never seemed to move at anything but a hurry; her