The Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘So boring and long. I declare I nearly did. But, la, my lord, how could I sleep with you to keep me company?’
    ‘I must warn you, my fair charmer, I’m a devil with the ladies.’
    ‘Oh, my lord, do you mean you are enamoured of someone? I declare you break my poor heart.’
    ‘Hey, only bamming. No one else here to match you.’
    After the promenade was over, Belinda slipped away. She wanted a few moments by herself because her resolve to marry St. Clair was slipping. She went to a dressing-room set aside for the ladies and sat down in a chair in front of the mirror and gazed wearily at her own reflection. Somehow, without the disapproving Miss Trumble around to react to, the idea of securing such a fool for a husbandwas beginning to strike Belinda as ridiculous. She pinned up a stray curl, shook out her muslin skirts, and made to leave the room. The door of the dressing-room was open. She heard the Marquess of Gyre’s voice and shrank back. The marquess made her feel as if she were perpetually making a cake of herself. ‘Which is exactly what you are doing, Belinda,’ said Miss Trumble’s voice in her head.
    ‘You must admit, Gyre,’ said his companion’s voice, ‘that the Beverley girl—Belinda, is it?—is the most beautiful creature in London.’
    Then came the marquess’s voice with dreadful clarity, ‘Oh, she is well enough, I suppose, but so stupid and vain.’ His voice rose to a falsetto as he began to parody Belinda, ‘Oh, my lord, opera is so tedious and boring, the finest works of art are so boring. La, your waistcoat is the very height of fashion.’
    ‘Was that meant to be Belinda Beverley? Doesn’t sound like her. Got a pretty voice.’
    ‘But the content was hers,’ said Gyre drily.
    ‘They all talk like that.’
    ‘Which is why I am still unwed,’ said the marquess. ‘Someone told me the Beverley girls were highly educated. Perhaps because they are able to spell “cat” without looking up Doctor Johnson’s dictionary.’
    ‘Well, you know,’ said his companion, sounding amused, ‘if she is behaving like a silly widgeon, it’s all part of the plot.’
    ‘You interest me—go on.’
    ‘It is a well-known fact that the Beverleys have thought of little but getting their family home back again. They lost all when old Beverley spent all his money, house and lands, across the tables of Saint James’s. Do you not remember the scandal when Rachel Beverley was set to marry the owner of Mannerling, Harry Devers, got cold feet and so her place at the wedding was taken by her twin Abigail? Abigail decides she cannot go through with it after the farce of a marriage and to escape Devers, jumps into Burfield’s bed. You’ll probably find that Belinda Beverley is really as sharp as a whip and that if Saint Clair did not have Mannerling, she would not give him the time of day.’
    ‘What a disgusting little creature,’ remarked Lord Gyre. ‘Shall we face the music again or go to the club?’
    ‘I think another few dances.’
    They moved off. Belinda retreated back into the dressing-room, her face flaming. Why should she have thought that all the Beverley scandals had been forgotten? If Lord St. Clair did not know of them, he soon would. Some competitive society mother would soon find a way to put him wise.
    Belinda clenched her little fists. ‘Damn Mannerling,’ she said aloud.
    In the refreshment room, Lord St. Clair was hearing all about the history of the Beverleysfrom his friend, Mirabel Dauncey.
    ‘So you see what I mean, old fellow,’ said Mirabel at the end of a catalogue of Beverley iniquities, ‘she only wants that demned house, not you.’
    Lord St. Clair’s amour propre was severely dented.
    ‘I’ll keep clear of her,’ he said. ‘That’ll show her.’
    *      *      *
    It was a silent carriage ride home. Lord St. Clair had sent an opera servant with a note to say he could not escort Lady Beverley, Belinda, and Lizzie home. He had the headache. It