The Bachelor List Read Online Free PDF

kind of thing at all!” Lord Duncan drained his glass. “No, no, I shall go to my club as usual. Play some bridge . . .” He regarded his daughters with a suddenly irritated frown that indicated he was still put out by the loss of his St.-Estèphe. “Can't think why none of you is married yet,” he said. “Nothing wrong with you that I can see.”
    “Perhaps the problem lies with potential suitors,” Constance said with a sweet smile. “Perhaps there is something wrong with
them.
”
    There was something in that smile and her tone that caused her father's frown to deepen. He remembered Lord Douglas Spender's untimely death. He didn't care to be reminded of unpleasant things, and Constance had rarely exhibited an excess of emotion over the loss of her fiancé . . . at least not in front of him. But he was astute enough to realize that with this oblique reminder she was taking him to task for his thoughtless comment.
    He cleared his throat. “I'm sure it's only your business,” he said gruffly. “Let us go in to dinner.”
    Dinner passed without further incident. Lord Duncan drank his claret without complaint and made only a fleeting reference to the rather limited selection of cheeses presented before dessert.
    “Jenkins, would you ask Cobham to bring the carriage around in half an hour?” Constance asked as she rose with her sisters to withdraw from the dining room and leave their father to his port and cigar.
    “Certainly, Miss Constance.” Jenkins poured port for his lordship.
    “Ah, I meant to tell you. I have it in mind to purchase a motorcar,” Lord Duncan announced. “No more of this horse-and-carriage business. We can be at Romsey Manor from the city in less than four hours with a motorcar. Just think of that.”
    “A motor!” exclaimed Prue. “Father, you can't be serious.”
    “And why can't I?” he demanded. “Keep up with the times, my dear Prudence. Everyone will have one in a few years.”
    “But the cost . . .” Her voice faded as she saw a dull flush creep over her father's countenance.
    “What is that to you, miss?”
    “Why, nothing at all,” Prudence said with an airy wave. “How should it be?” She brushed past her sisters as she left the dining room, her mouth set.
    “He is impossible!” she said in a fierce undertone once they were in the hall. “He knows there's no money.”
    “I don't know whether he really does know,” Chastity said. “He's denied every fact of life since Mother's death.”
    “Well, there's nothing we can do about it at present,” Constance said. “It always takes him a long time actually to do something, so let's wait and see.” She hurried to the stairs. “Come on, we don't want to miss the opera singer.”
    Prudence followed her upstairs with a glum expression that did not lighten while they collected their evening cloaks and returned downstairs, where Jenkins waited by the open front door. A barouche stood at the bottom of the shallow flight of steps that led down to the pavement. An elderly coachman stood on the pavement beside the carriage, whistling idly through his teeth.
    “Evening, Cobham.” Chastity smiled at him as he handed her up into the carriage. “We're going to the Beekmans' on Grosvenor Square.”
    “Right you are, Miss Chas. Evening, ladies.” He touched his cap to Constance and Prudence as they climbed in beside Chastity.
    “Did you hear that Lord Duncan is talking of getting a motorcar?” Constance asked him when he had climbed somewhat creakily onto the driver's box.
    “Aye, miss, he said something to me the other morning when I was taking him to his club. Reckon I'd make a poor chauffeur. I'm too old to learn new tricks . . . no time for those newfangled machines. What's going to happen to all the horses if there's no call for 'em? Are we going to put 'em all out to grass? Put me out to pasture, that's for sure,” he added in a low grumble.
    “Well, if he mentions it again try to persuade him that it's a very