Stephanie Laurens - Bastion Club 01 by The Lady Chosen

Author:The Lady Chosen [Chosen, The Lady]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-03T09:46:40+00:00

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“As to that,” Gertie responded, entirely unmoved, “she’ll do as she pleases—she always has. But the real question here is, is she going to let him dictate to her, or is she going to make a stand?”

“Stand?” Leonora frowned. “You mean ignore all these invitations?” Even she found the thought a trifle extreme.

Gertie snorted. “Of course not! Do that, and you’ll dig your own grave. But there’s no reason to let him get away with thinking he can force you into anything. As I see it, the most telling response would be to accept the most sought-after invitations with delight, and attend with the clear aim of enjoying yourself.

Go and meet him in the ballrooms and if he dares press you there, you can give him his cong with half the ton looking on.”

She thumped her cane. “Mark my words, you need to teach him he’s not omnipotent, that he won’t get his way by such machinations.” Gertie’s old eyes gleamed. “Best way to do that is to give him what he thinks he wants, then show him that it isn’t what he really wants at all.” The look on Gertie’s face was unashamedly wicked; the thought it evoked in Leonora’s mind was definitely attractive.

“I take your point…” She stared into the distance, her mind juggling possibilities. “Give him what he’s angled for, but…” Refocusing on Gertie, she beamed. “Of course!” The number of invitations had grown to nineteen; she felt almost giddy with defiance.

She swung to Mildred; she’d been watching Gertie, a rather bemused expression on her face. “Before Lady Holland’s, perhaps we should attend the Carstairs’s rout?” They did; Leonora used the event as a refresher to dust off and buff up her social skills. By the time she walked into Lady Holland’s elegant rooms, her confidence was riding high. She knew she looked well in her deep topaz silk, her hair piled high, topaz drops in her ears, pearls looped about her throat.

Following in Mildred’s and Gertie’s wake, she curtsied before Lady Holland, who shook her hand and uttered the usual pleasantries, all the while observing her through shrewd and intelligent eyes.

“I understand you’ve made a conquest,” her ladyship remarked.

Leonora raised her brows lightly, let her lips curve. “Entirely unintentionally, I assure you.” Lady Holland’s eyes widened; she looked intrigued.

Leonora let her smile deepen; head high, she glided on.

From where he’d retreated to lounge against the drawing-room wall, Tristan watched the exchange, saw Lady Holland’s surprise, caught the amused glance she shot him as Leonora moved into the crowd.

He ignored it, fixed his gaze on his quarry, and pushed away from the wall.

He’d arrived unfashionably early, uncaring that her ladyship, who had always taken an interest in his career, would correctly guess his reasons. The past two hours had been ones of inaction, of unutterable boredom, reminding him why he’d never felt he’d missed anything in joining the army at twenty. Now Leonora had consented to arrive, he could get on with things.

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