The Brigadier's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

before the fire and letting her curl up on his lap, a prelude to making love.
    However, Uncle Percy had mentioned the importance of producing an heir and he wondered if her small slim frame would be, er, adequate. He frowned, hesitating even within the privacy of his thoughts to dwell on Miss Packard’s nether regions. Well, one just wouldn’t breed a Suffolk Punch with a delicate little Arabian filly, now would one? It would not do. No, definitely not, he told himself firmly, it would not do at all.
    He would be better off if he looked to the other Miss Packard, the blonde one, who appeared to be everything that he desired in a wife—confident, vivacious, and her figure was certainly admirable. Evidently a strong young woman, her speech and manners a little too loud perhaps, a little wilful…selfish, even? He hadn’t yet enjoyed a particularly entertaining conversation with her, and she was frequently looking over her shoulder at that damned Westfaling whippersnapper. His enthusiasm began to wane as he dwelled on the attributes of one sister, and then the other, but even as he made his way downstairs, enjoyed a hearty breakfast, and then to the stables, mounted his bay gelding and rode off in the direction of Hyde Park, he could not come to any satisfactory conclusion about either of them.
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    â€˜Sasha, wake up!’
    From beneath a pile of bedcovers Sasha groaned, and shrugged off the hand shaking her shoulder. She burrowed deeper into the bed, in a vain attempt to escape a persistent Georgia.
    â€˜Oh, go away, Georgia, leave me alone!’ she muttered from beneath her pillow, her heavy and aching eyes trying to sink back into the bliss of sleep.
    â€˜Sasha, you must get up.’ Georgia marched over to the window and thrust back the curtains, flooding the room with bright sunshine. ‘I promised Felix that I would meet him in the park. Do get dressed, I’ve persuaded one of the grooms to be ready and waiting at ten o’clock.’
    â€˜Ten o’clock!’ Sasha sat up then, turning to look at the clockticking gently in its gilt case on the mantel above the fireplace, and then at her fully dressed sister. ‘Are you mad, Georgia, or just totally insensitive to other people? It’s the crack of dawn and I’m exhausted from last night.’
    â€˜Rubbish! It’s almost nine and you’ve had plenty of sleep. Here, darling, put on your lovely blue riding habit and I’ll ring for Polly to bring you some tea and toast.’
    Emerging from the dressing room with her arms full of Sasha’s riding habit, she laid it down on the bed and then crossed the room to pull the bell-rope.
    Sasha yawned and stretched, seeing that there was no help for it but to get up. And now that she was awake, and her thoughts returned to the memory of Captain Bowen, she was far too restless to go back to sleep. She glanced out of the window at the clear blue sky, and mused that a ride in the park seemed just the thing. The snow had stopped and was beginning to thaw, and though later it would be slushy out, for now it would be crisp but not too cold or treacherous. She dressed and enjoyed a cup of fragrant Earl Grey and a slice of toast with butter and marmalade, ignoring Georgia as she nagged and badgered in the background. At last she was dressed, and stood before her mirror to place her top hat on, pulling down the spotted black netting over her face, and slipped her fingers into kid gloves.
    â€˜At last!’ cried Georgia, springing to her feet and ushering her sister downstairs and out to the stables, glancing now and then over her shoulder.
    Sasha became suspicious. ‘Papa does know we are going out? He gave his permission?’
    â€˜Oh, yes, of course.’ Georgia waved her hand airily, and beamed at the young groom waiting for them, holding two big, dappled-grey hunters by their bridles. ‘Good morning, Farrell.’
    â€˜Mornin’, miss.’ The