Pursuing Lord Pascal Read Online Free PDF Page A

his title was old and distinguished. And
while he’d long ago become bored with praise for his looks, he knew
he still set the ladies’ hearts aflutter.
    “Remember—foxhounds,” she said darkly, as
Lady Mowbray returned in a devilish stylish dark green pelisse and
a military-style hat to match. His heart performed that strange
somersault again. She wasn’t pretty in the classic style, but by
God, she was as bright and vivid as a sunrise.
    “You and Sally looked very serious,” Lady
Mowbray said, as they rolled away from the front of the house. His
groom was waiting for him back in Sally’s kitchen—Pascal didn’t
want anyone overhearing this conversation.
    “She was warning me to be careful with you.”
Deftly he angled the light carriage between two heavy drays
threatening to block the road.
    Annoyance flashed in her hazel eyes, turned
them a rich gold-green. “Did she indeed? I’ll have a word with her
when I get home.”
    “She has a point. I have a reputation as a
rake, and I’m famous for trifling with ladies’ affections, then
dropping them cold.”
    “I know about your reputation.” She studied
him with that direct, inquiring gaze he recalled from their dances
last night. “All Silas’s society friends are naughty men.”
    “Your brother isn’t naughty anymore.” Eight
years ago, Lord Stone had married a lovely widow, and he’d been
blissfully happy ever since. Something about Amy Mowbray’s company
on this fine day made Pascal wonder if emulating him mightn’t be a
bad idea.
    “Not in public, anyway.”
    “So you’re not afraid of my intentions?”
    Still she inspected him, as if she saw
beneath his spectacular hide to the less than spectacular soul
beneath. With most of his flirts, problems invariably arose once
the lady discovered an average man lurked beneath his apollonian
looks. They expected a prince, and instead got Gervaise Dacre, with
all his faults.
    Under Amy Mowbray’s regard, he shifted
uncomfortably. He had an awful suspicion she already guessed he
wasn’t a perfect knight.
    The pause lengthened. “Lady Mowbray?”
    A faint smile lifted one corner of her mouth.
He bit back the impulse to kiss her. One day, he would. Not today.
And not when he had to devote at least half his attention to
negotiating London’s bustling streets.
    “You know, I’m not sure I am.” Her smile
lengthened. “Although I’m hurt you don’t remember that we’ve
already met.”
    The carriage’s gentle rocking bumped her hip
against his in a pleasing way. “You’ve been to London before?”
    “I had a season before I married. But before
that, you came to Woodley Park for the hunting. I had a horribly
painful case of calf love for you when I was fourteen, my
lord.”
    He racked his brains. He remembered visiting
Lord Stone’s beautiful Leicestershire estate on several occasions.
He remembered Helena, Stone’s dashing dark-haired sister, and
Robert, tragically lost at sea a couple of years ago. “I should
have noticed you.”
    She made a dismissive sound. “No, you
shouldn’t. Not really.”
    A glimmer of memory sparked. “You were the
girl who talked farming at dinner.”
    Another blush. “I was an awful bore.”
    He laughed and shook his head. “You terrified
the life out of me. I already didn’t feel clever enough to be a
guest in that house. Helena and Robert discussed mathematics. Silas
was busy with his botanical specimens. And most intimidating of
all, there was this young Minerva who knew all about new strains of
wheat. I felt hopelessly shallow.”
    “We can be a bit overwhelming when we’re
together.”
    Pascal frowned, struggling to summon the
details of those long ago house parties. “We danced together,
didn’t we?”
    She looked sheepish. “Now I am surprised
you’ve forgotten that. I bruised your toes most egregiously.”
    He gave a low laugh. “You didn’t last night.
You’ve been practicing.”
    A mysterious smile curved her lips. “I
have.”
    It was his