Major Lord David Read Online Free PDF Page A

always declared it the
dearest wish of her heart. Indeed, every member of her family knew of her years-long infatuation with Braughton’s
younger son. They had asked her what more she could possibly desire.
    The answer to that, though unvoiced, had been “reciprocity”-some correspondence of feeling. That he should care as much as I do. Or at least as much as she had always believed
she had. She did not want David Trent as a sacrifice. But how
else were they to satisfy the Caswell honor?

    Her gaze returned to him, to find that his own attention had
not wavered. She knew with certainty that he had never once
dreamed of her. He had not even realized she was a girl.
    “Morty,” she said into the silence, even as she stared into
what she considered “the blue” of that gaze. Morty now sat
where David had, at her father’s other side. “You must pass
the major his Thucydides.”
    She continued to meet his gaze as the book was dutifully
passed across to Edward and on to the seat at Major Trent’s
side.
    “I have a much preferred pastime at the moment, Miss
Caswell,” he said. For a second he let his gaze fall again to her
lips, long enough that she felt a blush seek her cheeks. She
pointedly turned her attention out the window.
    When the carriage abruptly halted once more, Billie anticipated his exit. But this time, as Edward and Morty sprang to
action, David Trent stubbornly kept his seat. He actually had
the gall to smile at her.
    “Are you planning a season in town this spring, Miss
Caswell?” he asked.
    “Most certainly you will have a say in that, my lord,” her
father said quickly, leaning toward him with urgency.
    “And how so, sir? How can it affect me?”
    “What! Do you want the girl or not?”
    Billie drew a sharp breath, waiting for David’s definitive
no.
    His eyebrows shot high. “Surely Miss Caswell must determine what she wants, sir?”
    The question was much to the point; he had masterfully
called her father’s bluff in asking. Sir Moreton responded
with silence. Billie had an insight as to just how keen and purposeful an officer David Trent must be, the more so when
his gaze settled on her with a marked decrease in warmth. He
must have deduced, correctly, that she was the obstacle to
clarity in this matterthat she was the one delaying an answer, weighing his offer in the balance, holding his feet to the
fire. She was determined to speak with him first.

    He tried another tack. Once her brothers returned to their
seats and the carriage was again rolling, Lord David let one of
his boots rest casually against her skirts. Billie glared at him
and attempted to shift her position, but she was squeezed to
the side of the bench by her father and Morty, and the major’s
legs were indisputably long.
    She wanted to ignore so slight a contact, to act as though it
were accidental, but by avoiding his gaze she knew she acknowledged it. She focused on the scenery outside. The snow
had resumed. They had already spent almost two hours traveling a distance that usually required less than one; her impatience for the trip to end found relief in occasional soundless
sighs.
    When the major’s other knee touched her skirt, she glanced
at him, prepared to utter a rebuke. But he was now slouched
against the seat back, his arms crossed over his chest and his
eyes closed in sleep. Next to her, her father had succumbed to
the same state of oblivion. That the men could doze in such
uncomfortable circumstances amazed her.
    Edward was peacefully reading Lord David’s Greek text.
    Billie studied David’s features. Last night he had reminded
her too starkly of her foolishness as a youngster. At age
twelve, intending to shoot him with “Cupid’s dart,” she had
most accurately sent an arrow flying from ambush-straight
to David Trent’s shoulder. She vividly recalled Kit’s triumphant
yell, how David had reeled and tumbled from his horse, her
own stunned horror at his