Miss Darby's Duenna Read Online Free PDF Page B

unite himself to such beauty?” replied Lord Mannerly, guiding her easily through the movements of the dance.
    Olivia, having been sadly neglected by her prospective bridegroom, was no match for Lord Mannerly’s flowery compliments. Acutely aware of the admiration in his black eyes and the warm pressure of his hand upon her waist, she responded to his flattery much as a flower responds to the sun. Mannerly, observing her shining eyes and heightened color, found himself rearranging his plans. His first thought was to court Miss Darby until she gave young Hawthorne the mitten, thus avenging his own humiliation by seeing his foe publicly jilted. But now, seeing the rise and fall of her white bosom above the décolletage of her gown, he revised his plans along more effective—and far more pleasant—lines. He would seduce the love-starved Miss Darby and, since the soiled bride would then undoubtedly hurry her cuckolded swain to the altar as quickly as possible, he would have his revenge on the happy couple’s wedding night, when Sir Harry Hawthorne discovered too late that he had been beaten, as it were, to the post. Lord Mannerly’s one regret was that his very public humiliation must be satisfied with a very private revenge; but that, he supposed, was the price of genius.
    * * * *
    The prospective bridegroom, entering Almack’s precisely at ten fifty-seven, paused for a moment inside those hallowed portals, raising his quizzing glass to search for his chosen bride. There was her mama, seated beside Georgie along the wall. Lord Mannerly, he observed with a grimace, was back in Town, and had naturally staked his claim on the most beautiful woman present, a dark-haired enchantress in white. The quizzing glass lingered on this vision briefly before passing on, then returned with a jerk. Livvy! His Livvy, in a diaphanous cloud of white sarcenet with a low-cut corsage that exposed far too much rounded bosom for his peace of mind. And Lord Mannerly, he observed with displeasure, was taking full advantage of the view. A long-dormant demon of jealousy stirred in Sir Harry’s hitherto complacent breast. Mannerly had no business looking at Livvy that way! Dash it all, he had no business looking at her that way, and he was all but married to the girl!
    As the violins scraped to a halt, Sir Harry charted a direct course for his future mama-in-law, and reached that good lady just as Lord Mannerly returned his fair partner to her mother’s side.
    “Why, Harry!” exclaimed Olivia, still flushed and breathless from the exertions of the dance. “I had quite given you up.”
    “So I see,” he remarked, glaring at the marquess. “But it appears you have not lacked for partners in my absence. Shall we?” Without waiting for a reply, he seized her gloved hand and all but dragged her back onto the floor, acknowledging Lord Mannerly’s presence with naught but a curt nod.
    Olivia’s first thought upon seeing her betrothed was how splendid he looked in form-fitting knee-breeches and a dark cutaway coat over a watered silk waistcoat, his sandy locks brushed into the fashionable Brutus style.   His odd behavior, however, quickly drove sartorial concerns from her mind.
    “Why, Harry!” she exclaimed, following him onto the floor. “Whatever is the matter?”
    “I might well ask you the same question! Do you have any idea with whom you were dancing?”
    “Only your friend, Lord Mannerly,” she replied, all at sea.
    As the movement of the dance brought them near to the wall, Sir Harry swept his partner out of the mass of dancers and through a brocade curtain into a secluded alcove.
    “You have been misinformed,” he said bluntly, safe within the privacy of this antechamber. “Mannerly is no friend of mine, and he is not at all a proper person for you to know.”
    Olivia’s blue eyes opened wide with surprise. “But I thought him charming!”
    “Oh, he is charming, I’ll grant you that,” said Sir Harry darkly.