An Encounter With Venus by Elizabeth Mansfield

Author:Elizabeth Mansfield [Mansfield, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency, England, Fiction, Romance, Historical Fiction; American, Adult
ISBN: 9780451209979
Google: Re2FaDwOLA8C
Amazon: 0451209974
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2003-12-01T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

George sat slumped on the rear seat of the phaeton, feeling miserable. He could hear Timmy, up on the box outside, whistling cheerfully as the carriage glided over the snow on its new runners. He knew he, too, should be cheerful, for with any luck they would make it to London in time to dress for the ball. But he couldn’t seem to thrust off the cloud of depression that surrounded him like a cloak. It was not Livy’s unkind goodbye alone that nagged at him, although that itself was enough to wound a fellow’s spirit. After all, it was not pleasant to be called an interfering, arrogant meddler. And then there was her scathing response to his kiss. She’d interpreted a sincere, affectionate embrace as an act of cruelty. He would never understand her! But it was more than those insults that troubled him. It was Livy herself-—the dreadful life she lived that she would do nothing to improve. Why did she not see how her uncle was exploiting her?

Of course, he could not deny that her numerous blows to his self-image had cut him deeply. In all his twenty-seven years, he could not remember anyone who’d taken him in such complete dislike. True, the start of their association had been his own fault—the disappointed look on his face when he’d first seen her must have been more damaging to her than he’d believed. But he’d tried in every way to erase that first impression. She’d reacted negatively to his every attempt to undo it. I don’t want your kindness, she’d told him over and over. He found that repeated rejection bewildering. What else could she have wanted from him? Damnation, he would never understand her!

His mind kept returning to the moment when she’d cried out her story in his arms. He’d responded with a sympathetic embrace. (It was a sympathetic embrace, wasn’t it?) Why had she interpreted that kiss as heartless? How could an act of warm sympathy be heartless? No, no, no, he would never understand her!

To be honest, he had to admit that on his part the kiss had been more than sympathetic. He’d felt a surprisingly strong physical desire for her. Could she have sensed that? Did she find such physical intimacy abhorrent? Was she a prude? Until this moment, he’d forgotten that she’d seemed like a dried-up old maid when he’d first glimpsed her. She did not seem so now, but perhaps his first impression wasn’t far off. Her behavior after the kiss could be called puritanical, couldn’t it? Was she a straitlaced spinster after all?

But since he would never understand her, there was no point in gnawing away at these questions. There was nothing for him to do but put the whole experience behind him. Leave her to her deuced, self-imposed fate, he told himself. As she’d informed him more than once, it was none of his concern.

Nevertheless, it irked him that no one in that benighted household had the courage to speak up to the choleric Sir Andrew.

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