Never A Bride: Three Regency Novels by Emily Larkin

Author:Emily Larkin [Larkin, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9951231-4-4

That evening, Adam attended the Elphinstones’ ball with his sister and aunt. He was in no mood to dance. He stood out the first dance, a drink in his hand, searching the ballroom for Arabella Knightley.

She was the daughter of a whore. Common wisdom painted her as impure, little better than a lightskirt herself, when instead, the opposite was true. She was afraid of sex—

“Darling,” a familiar voice said.

He turned his head. Lady Mary Vane stood beside him, smiling her sleepy smile. “I have that letter you wanted. I’ll send it around tomorrow.”

For a moment Adam had no idea what she was talking about—then he remembered. The letter from Grace’s blackmailer, Lady Bicknell. “Thank you. I’m more grateful than you can imagine.”

“For you, darling, anything.”

“Mary, if anyone should ask . . . you never received the letter.”

Her eyebrows arched slightly. “If that’s what you want?”

“It is.”

Mary nodded. She moved on, leisurely, beautiful.

Adam sipped his champagne. He scanned the ballroom for Lady Bicknell. Once he’d finished with her she wouldn’t be blackmailing anyone else.

He saw dowagers with turbans on their crimped gray curls, stout matrons wearing caps of white satin from which ostrich feathers sprouted, dashing young ladies with diamond tiaras atop their heads, débutantes with jeweled combs in their hair—

A face snagged his gaze; dark curls, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a softly indented chin.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” a smooth voice said in his ear.

Adam grunted, and swallowed another mouthful of champagne.

“Do I hear the sound of wedding bells?” Jeremy asked sweetly.

No. His hand clenched around the glass. “Were you present when Crowe was ruined?”

“Crowe?” Jeremy blinked. “Lord, yes. Never forget a scene like that!”

Adam grimaced, and drank another mouthful of champagne. It tasted bitter in his mouth. He’d turned away from Crowe, as had every man in the room, while Crowe had blustered his innocence. I should have killed him. Or better yet, castrated the man and then killed him.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Adam said.

He returned his attention to Arabella Knightley. She was afraid of sex—the kind of sex her mother had been forced to endure, not the kind of sex he hoped to share with her. If he could only make her understand the difference—

An idea bloomed in his head. It was shocking, scandalous, perfect.

Dare I? Adam asked himself, as he sipped the champagne.

Given the alternative, he most definitely did.

“D’ you like my waistcoat? Matches my eyes, don’t you think?”

Adam glanced at him. “You are a fribble and a coxcomb!” he said, severely.

Jeremy looked gratified. “One does one’s poor best.”

Adam couldn’t help it; he laughed.

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