Cut from the Same Cloth: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 3) by Kathleen Baldwin

Author:Kathleen Baldwin [Baldwin, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Scarlet O’Hara, Scarlet Pimpernel, Traditional Regency Romance, historical romance, romantic comedy, A Traditional Regency Romance Novel, Regency Romance, Regency Historical Romance
Publisher: Ink Lion Books
Published: 2014-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The Flimsy Fabric of Prevarication

THEY OVERSAW the unpacking of their luggage and took time to wash away the travel dust before meeting Lord Ransley. Elizabeth marveled at the castle-like quality of her bedroom. The architect had left the stone walls and heavy wooden beams exposed, just as he had throughout the rest of the manor. She removed her traveling dress and changed into a light green sprigged muslin. As she tiptoed down the broad open stairs into the great hall below, she felt like a fairy princess in an ancient stronghold.

In the great room by the fireplace, she waited, studying a large old coat of arms hanging above it. The shield was partitioned into six sections. No doubt a grant from Queen Elizabeth, it contained a white field with three red falcons, each holding a rose in his raised claw. The Red Hawk. Arms for St. Evert?

Engrossed in her study, she didn’t hear Valen approach. “A hodgepodge, is it not?”

She started and spun around, almost colliding with him because he stood so close. “Hawks. Red hawks—” His nearness flustered her and she couldn’t put her question together properly.

He shrugged.

Rather than dressing up for the occasion of seeing his father, St. Evert had donned a pair of nankeen trousers, more suited for riding than the drawing room, and a plain cambric shirt with no neckcloth. Then she remembered. “I do apologize for ruining your only dress shirt, my lord.”

“Small matter. My father would be alarmed if I were to put on my best bib and tucker for a mere visit. He might think he’d passed, and was a ghost at his own funeral. Surely nothing else could induce me to put on finery at home.”

Before she could sort out this odd comment, he had Elizabeth on his arm, leading her up the stairs again. “Come along. With any luck we will arrive in his room before my aunt does.”

Lord Ransley’s bedroom was dark and smelled of close, fetid air and a heavy cologne, which had been sprinkled liberally to mask the odor. Servants were lighting more candles as Elizabeth and Valen entered.

Lord Ransley sat up in bed, an eager expression on his face. “Valen, my boy, delighted to see you. And you’ve brought your bride! How lovely she is.”

Valen’s feet suddenly stuck to the floor. He clamped Elizabeth’s hand in place on his arm with the strength of an iron shackle. They came to such an abrupt stop, she nearly stumbled. Elizabeth glanced sideways at him and saw sheer panic on his face.

Apparently the very notion of an alliance between the two of them struck Lord St. Evert dumb with terror. How very amusing. Insulting, but amusing. It would have only required a small explanation to set the matter right with his father. But she decided he might jolly well extricate himself from this little tangle without any help from her.

“I... no. She’s not my... we haven’t…”

The fact that the high and mighty, overconfident Lord St. Evert stammered nearly moved her to laughter.

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