The Winter Bride (A Chance Sisters Romance) Read Online Free PDF

he preferred not to think about. Pretty, quietly spoken and perfectly pleasant, she was—she ought to be—no different from any of the multitude of girls on the marriage mart these days. And yet . . .
    He found her unsettling. Those big brown eyes of hers seemed to see . . . too much. He’d always had a soft spot for a pair of brown eyes, but whenever he tried to flirt with her—purely for a little bit of harmless fun—ouch! She’d freeze him out.
    And yet he kept coming back for more.
    “Nasty things, headaches,” he commented and winced inwardly at the inanity. In some circles he was held to be a witty and entertaining conversationalist. But whenever he tried to make pleasant, meaningless chat with Miss Damaris Chance, it always came out lame.
    She nodded, gave him a half smile but didn’t reply. The headache, no doubt.
    If anyone had a headache, Freddy ruminated as the carriage passed out of Grosvenor Square, it should be he. Last night he’d finally crawled into bed—his own bed—around dawn. His current mistress was planning to marry again, to a much older, richer man, so their affair was drawing to a close. Or rather, a climax. She was determined to go out with a bang. Or three. Freddy was exhausted.
    He had his own code about women. It wouldn’t win him any prizes for morality but it was a code, nevertheless. He never dallied with innocents of any class; he avoided muffins—eligible girls bent on wedlock—like the plague; and he never chased after married women. If they chased after him, if they were neglected by their husbands and were unhappy, that was another matter. Even so, he only accepted the advances of those who had already provided their husbands with an heir, at least. He was no cuckoo in the nest—didn’t want the complications.
    He preferred widows. When he was just sixteen he’d lost his virginity to a buxom farmer’s widow ten years older than himself. She’d taken an eager, clumsy boy and shown him how to please a woman, as well as himself, teaching him the value of self-control and patience. It was a lesson he’d put to good use ever since.
    Remarkable how many men—judging by the women he’d lain with—didn’t bother. Fools. He yawned.
    Lady Beatrice poked him with her elegant ebony stick. “Been out on the tiles again, young tomcat?”
    Freddy gave her a cool, dignified look.
    Lady Beatrice grinned. “Thought so. You have that look about you.”
    “Look?” he asked, then cursed himself for taking her bait. He cast around for a change of subject. “Look,” he repeated in a quite different tone, and pointed to an organ-grinder. “Monkey dressed in a red jacket. Quaint little fellow.” An excellent distraction. Miss Jane, he knew, was fond of animals.
    Lady Beatrice chuckled. “None so prudish in company as a rake. By all means let us watch the monkey.” She leaned back against the padded leather squabs, not taking her eyes off Freddy.
    He had to laugh.
    He hadn’t relished the thought of playing substitute for Max while his friend was away, but he wasn’t finding it too difficult. Getting up before noon was the hardest. His hours and the hours kept by respectable ladies didn’t exactly overlap. Still, Max should be back in a few weeks. Freddy could survive sleep deprivation until then. He hoped.
    The carriage slowed as they turned into Hyde Park. Lady Beatrice instantly spotted a couple of friends and ordered the driver to stop. Freddy and the girls got down, and Freddy helped two old ladies up into the landau.
    While Lady Beatrice and her cronies took a turn around the park in the carriage, Freddy and the girls would promenade in the park. Pretty tame entertainment in Freddy’s view, but the ladies seemed to enjoy it.
    He was quite enjoying it too. It was rather pleasant strolling along with three pretty girls, none of whom had the slightest design on him. He was well aware of the symptoms of Matrimonial Intent, and the Chance girls displayed none of them.