In My Wildest Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

waist, he brought her to his side. She was a tiny woman, and growing shorter as she left sixty behind. Her shoulders were stooped beneath the weight of her silk gown and wide petticoats, and she carried a cane. She had never been a beauty—beauty might have brought her a rich and titled husband—but she had an aristocrat’s arrogance and an Englishwoman’s pride. Kissing her powdered cheek, he said loudly, “The party is wonderful, as always.” He lowered his voice. “Smile, Mother, everyone will take their cue from us.”
    He felt the stiff indignation grip her before she let it go. Eternally pragmatic, she understood the necessity of behaving as if she enjoyed the sight of Ellery dancing with a ravishing girl who was not his fiancée.
    â€œShe is Miss Milford,” Throckmorton informed her.
    In an absolutely agreeable tone, Lady Philberta asked, “The gardener’s daughter?”
    â€œExactly.”
    It was a measure of his mother’s distress when she used his father’s favorite curse. “Hell and damnation.”
    Herne made his stately way toward them, offering champagne and strawberries.
    Lady Philberta accepted the champagne and waved off the strawberries. Like her younger son, she was allergic to them.
    She waited until Herne had moved on before she continued, “You’ve got to get rid of her. Immediately.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œThrow her out!”
    â€œShe is the daughter of our faithful gardener and our deceased cook. I have hired her to be the girls’ governess.” He paused long enough to let her ingest that impalpable truth before adding, “Besides, if I were to toss her out, Ellery would follow.”
    â€œBut if Lord Longshaw sees her!”
    â€œIt’s too late for that.” With a tilt of his head, Throckmorton indicated the apoplectic Lord Longshaw standing in the open doorway.
    â€œThe gardener’s daughter.” Lady Philberta sipped the champagne and watched the dancing with fixed enjoyment. “What can Ellery be thinking?”
    â€œThe question would be—with what is Ellery thinking?” Throckmorton murmured.
    Lady Philberta whipped her head around to stare at him. “What?”
    â€œNothing, Mother.”
    â€œYou pick a poor time to show the first signs of a sense of humor.”
    â€œYes, Mother.” He supposed he had best keep his observations to himself. “It isn’t as if I care whether the gardener’s daughter comes to the party. I have no aristocratic pretensions. My own antecedents don’t bear looking into”—he fixed her with a significant gaze—“on either side.”
    â€œYou’re not going to mention the highwayman again? That was a hundred years ago, and at least he had the advantage of being romantic.”
    â€œIf you consider hanging from your neck until you are dead to be romantic.”
    Without drawing breath, she continued, “My ancestors aren’t nearly as scandalous as your father’s, with his rebellious Scottish baron and Cromwell’s commander and those dreadful pirates.”
    It was an argument she had had often with his father. She had never won and his father was dead, but that didn’t stop her from fighting.
    â€œIf anything, the family background makes this intrigue with Miss Milford all the more undesirable.” Lady Philberta pointed out what Throckmorton already knew. “The ton could easily be made to remember how precarious the Throckmorton toehold into society truly is, especially if, in a disgraceful spectacle, Ellery rejects his betrothed—one of our own—right before our eyes.”
    â€œI realize that, Mother.”
    In a quiet tone that barely reached his ears, she said,“Garrick, for the sake of Her Majesty’s realm, we need the Longshaw connection.”
    â€œThe capital won’t hurt us, either.” If his family had a motto, it might be Money and