An Unwilling Conquest by Stephanie Laurens

Author:Stephanie Laurens [Laurens, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 1996-10-02T22:00:00+00:00

“AURELIA WILCOX ALWAYS did give the best parties.” Em rustled her silks in the dark of the carriage as it rolled down Highgate Hill. After a moment, she diffidently added, “Didn’t see Harry tonight.”

“He wasn’t there.” Lucinda heard the weariness in her voice and was glad Heather, curled on the seat opposite, wasn’t awake to hear it. Her stepdaughter was thoroughly enjoying her taste of the ton in a wholly innocuous, innocent way. If it hadn’t been for Heather’s undoubted enjoyment, she would be seriously considering removing from the capital, regardless of the fact that such a move would clearly signal defeat.

She felt defeated. Tuesday night had just come and gone, with no sign of Harry. She hadn’t seen him since Lady Mott’s ball on Saturday evening; since then, he had not even been present at the balls and parties they had attended. His presence was not something she would miss—his gaze had always triggered a certain sensation, quite unique, within her.

A sensation she now missed—dreadfully.

“Perhaps he’s already left London?” Her tone was uninflected, yet the words embodied her deepest fear. She had played her cards and lost.

“No.” Em stirred on the seat beside her. “Fergus mentioned that Dawlish is still haunting the kitchens.” Softly, Em snorted. “The Almighty only knows to what purpose.”

After a moment, Em went on, her voice low, “It was never going to be easy, y’know. He’s as stubborn as a mule—most men are over matters like this. You have to give him time to get used to the idea—to let his resistance wear itself out. He’ll come around in the end—just wait and see.”

Wait and see. As the carriage rattled on over the cobbles, Lucinda laid her head back against the squabs and reviewed her recent actions. No matter how she tried, she could not regret any of them—faced with the same situation, she would act as she had again. But neither dwelling on the past—nor idling through the present—was advancing her cause. But she could hardly seduce Harry again if he didn’t come near her.

Worse—he was no longer concerned for her safety, even though Lord Ruthven, Mr Amberly and Mr Satterly had been particularly assiduous in their attentions. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for their enthusiastic if totally platonic support, she doubted she could have held her head up over these past nights. The balls, which she had initially found fascinating, had lost their attraction. The dances were boring, the waltzes trials. As for the promenading, the incessant visiting, the constant appearances demanded by the ton, she increasingly saw them as a waste of time; her business persona re-emerging, no doubt. If she told true, she now viewed the time she spent in tonnish endeavours as a very poor investment.

It was unlikely to render her the return she sought.

Unfortunately, she had no idea what new tack to take, how to realign her strategies to bring her goal back in sight.

Her goal, in this case unfortunately not inanimate, had taken matters into his own hands—which left her with nothing to do but wait—a scenario she found intensely irksome.

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