Magical Weddings Read Online Free PDF Page B

pretty as that one.”
    Pretty? Yes, Simon supposed Celia was generally considered to be pretty, now that she’d grown up. At least, the young men back in Leicester seemed of one mind in considering her to be more than acceptable. Simon’s own tastes ran more toward Lady Hester’s style of dark and exotic beauty, but he prided himself on being fair-minded about it. Celia’s skin was gloriously smooth and soft–the perfect peaches and cream that every English girl longed for. Her features were regular, her smile could be delightful, and her hair had somehow turned from the ordinary brown of her childhood to something that looked gold or red or something else entirely, depending on the light.
    As though he’d read Simon’s mind, Draycott mused, “I wonder how long her hair is. And what do the ladies call that color?”
    “No idea.” Celia complained sometimes about how heavy it was, and Simon supposed it must be a nuisance, piled on top of her head like that. Back before she’d become a proper young lady, Celia’s hair had flowed well past the middle of her back–though she’d usually worn it in two lush, fat, long braids which had fairly begged to be tugged.
    “She’s presentable enough, too,” the baron went on. “Has a pleasant manner, doesn’t put on airs or thrust herself forward. There’s no sense in
me
marrying someone who expects to be treated like a duchess, for it won’t happen.”
    Not if it depends on her husband acting like a gentleman.
    “Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being a baroness,” Draycott went on defensively. “The title was good enough for my mother. It’s just that some girls are too high in the instep to settle for what they consider a minor title. Lady Hester gave me quite a set-down just this afternoon, in fact, and all I’d said was… well, it doesn’t matter. A gentleman doesn’t gossip where ladies are concerned.”
    “Indeed,” Simon murmured.
    “Oh, yes. No sense in you looking in that direction, either–Lady Hester, I mean–since you’ve no title at all. I was just saying it stands to reason that Miss Overton would be more understanding about the matter. Granddaughter of a baron herself, I believe Lady Stone said? She’d no doubt be flattered if I offered for her.”
    Simon couldn’t stop gritting his teeth long enough to answer, though he wasn’t quite certain why. Surely he wasn’t feeling grim for Celia’s sake, or worried about her future–even though this little worm of a baron seemed to shop for a wife with less concern than he’d spend on choosing a new coat from his tailor.
    His reaction must be because Celia was apparently already well on the way to winning her bet. Draycott might hold only the lowest of the nobility’s ranks, but he did fit the terms of her wager. Why hadn’t Simon been more careful to specify what it would take for her to win?
    The baron went on hastily, “Not saying I
will
drop my handkerchief there, so don’t you go running off to tell her, mind!”
    “Of course not.” Simon let a faint note of irony creep into his voice. “A gentleman doesn’t gossip where ladies are concerned.”
    “What? Oh, you’re mocking me. Very amusing. At any rate, there’s plenty of time. Nearly an entire week.”
    “Yes,” Simon said maliciously. “Only a fool wouldn’t be able to make a determination in four or five days whether a female was the sort one wanted to spend a lifetime with.”
    Draycott nodded. “Exactly. And even if Lady Hester is unavailable, there are still the Carew sisters to consider.”
    Simon wondered if the baron saw any distinction between the two Carews. If it wasn’t for the different colors of their ribbons, he wasn’t certain he himself could tell them apart. “Still in the running for your hand, are they?”
    “Well, of course. One of the richest families in the country.”
    “Lady Stone said their grandfather is an earl?”
    “True, but they don’t have the same airs and graces about it