The Rogue's Reluctant Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the usual dinner parties.”
    The baronet laughed. “Is that so, Miss Barrington? Why, I confess I am surprised by this. I am certain that young ladies as a rule love dancing best of all. Fireworks, while certainly a sight to be seen, have none of the grandeur of a formal ball, or even a night at the assembly rooms. I daresay one cannot dress as finely for the fireworks as one can for a rout party.”
    “No, one certainly cannot, at that. But one does go to so many assemblies and dinners. Fireworks are much more of a rarity, and thus more enjoyable, even if I cannot wear my best pearls.”
    “Ah, my dear lady, I am very sorry to hear that you have grown weary of the assemblies. But perhaps I may yet change your mind.” Sir Timothy stopped walking and captured her free hand in his. He brought the delicate hand, encased in a glove of pale blue lace, to his lips. His eyes never left her face as he kissed the back of her hand.
    He released her hand, but continued to hold her eyes. “My Aunt Huston is hosting ball this Saturday next, and I would be very honoured if you were to attend. I will even be so bold as to demand an entire two dances of you.”
    Araminta returned his flirtatious smile with one of her own, charmed by his elegant manner and fine words.
    “Bold indeed, Sir Timothy. And I shall be so bold as to acquiesce to your demand.”
    “I am glad to hear it. It would have been an unbearable night otherwise. My aunt should send the invitations to your aunt and uncle by Tuesday. I can only hope that you will like the party more than you do the fireworks, though it will not be an easy victory, if the rumours about the impending entertainment are to be believed. You know, my dear, most young ladies are also fond of balls as a way to get husbands.”
    “Sir Timothy!” Araminta gasped in indignation. “I assure you that, while some young ladies certainly may look on balls as nothing more than a convenient arena for the snaring of one’s future spouse, that is not at all true of us all.”
    The baronet chuckled softly and moved to continue their walk. “No, indeed, Miss Barrington. Forgive me, if you would. I was merely teasing you.”
    “Of course,” Araminta murmured softly, with an uneasy smile. She felt the uncomfortable stirrings of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She felt like a hypocrite. He had been right after all, as much as she would rather deny the fact; she was out to snare a husband with a fortune, as quickly as she possibly could. She was exactly like the young women on whom she used to look with such pronounced disdain, and from whom she had always been eager to distance her own character. Sir Timothy was a good man, and he would make a kind, affectionate husband, she had no doubt. And marriages of convenience were not, after all, unheard of. She was looking to charm Sir Timothy, or another like him, into offering her marriage. He would not know, of course, upon offering her his name, that their match would be one of convenience. He could not know that she wished to marry him for his fortune, and this made her feel even more of a cheat. While she liked Sir Timothy, she did not love him, and it did not feel right to try to snare him into a union with her, when she could not even return his affection.
    For a moment, Araminta was overtaken by guilt. She no longer noticed the beautiful roses and the walk held no enjoyment for her, as Sir Timothy strolled slowly next to her, talking of fireworks and gardens. She wondered if she ought simply to give up the whole idea. It was not in her to be so coldly mercenary, after all. Then she thought of her brother, and Fanshawe Hall. She thought of the generations of Barringtons who had lived within its walls, and sacrificed for it. She thought of poor, distraught Harriet, convinced that not only had she lost a husband, but she was also to lose her home. She thought of her little nephew, who would have nothing to inherit, and the sort of life he could expect.