Regency Gold (The Regency Intrigue Series Book 2) by Beaton M. C

Author:Beaton, M. C. [Beaton, M. C.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: RosettaBooks
Published: 2014-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The diminished house party met in the hall in the morning, preparatory to their outing, in high spirits. Sir Giles and Lady Carol had elected to stay behind since they had other duties to attend to and, with Bess’s oppressive personality removed, it was with a feeling of holiday that they set off. Even the fact that Lady Frank insisted Jean accompany herself and her brother in their carriage, leaving the marquess and Lady Sally to ride together, could not dampen Jean’s spirits. No Bess to mar the day with her malicious barbs, no Miss Taylor with her anxious looks of sorrowful concern, no Lord Ian and, above all, no Uncle Hamish.

As the carriage swept out of the drive past huge banks of rhododendron at the lodge gates and out onto the country road, Jean felt, for the first time in her life, as if she were on holiday. Frank was a jolly companion, the countryside was alive with birdsong, lilacs, may blossom, early roses rioted in the hedgerows and the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky.

For his part, the marquess was preoccupied, much to the annoyance of Lady Sally. He decided that his treatment of Jean Lindsay had been shameful. He would treat her with kindness and courtesy and find a suitable opportunity to propose to the girl and have done with it. If only she weren’t so damned incalculable. What if she refused?

Well, if she did, he would settle down with a young female of impeccable birth and beget heirs. He was getting too old for all this useless merrymaking.

The River Barnes, swollen by the recent rain, was in full spate. It hurtled through the placid meadows, foaming and sparkling like beer in the morning sun, sweeping the long branches of the weeping willows along with it as if it would pull them down into the water and carry them off to the sea.

They settled on a pleasant grassy spot next to a pile of huge boulders and under the shade of a stand of alders. The party sprawled around on the grass, watching the servants from the Manor setting up the picnic table and chairs and opening the hampers.

Jean settled back against the sunny warmth of a large boulder and, in her mind, the grim memories of Dunwearie, the London Season, and the attempts on her life dwindled away, leaving only the delicious peace of the present. The glossy leaves above her rippled, turned and shone in the light breeze and a thrush poured out the full-throated glory of his summer song to a comforting if mundane accompaniment of clinking glasses and dishes.

Her reverie was interrupted by Sally’s tinkling voice. “John, dear. Could you escort me a little way along the stream. It’s so magnificent, I would like to get a closer look but I am afraid of falling in and I need the strong arm of my protector.”

“With pleasure.” The marquess got lazily to his feet and offered his arm. Lady Sally was wearing

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