The Earl's Reluctant Proposal--A Regency Historical Romance by Louise Allen

Author:Louise Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-11-25T18:21:48+00:00

Chapter Twelve

There was a surge of people towards Max, led by Lord Easton. ‘I’m sorry, Burnham. I was reckless and I’m just damn—apologies, ladies—I’m just relieved it wasn’t any worse.’ He shuffled his feet, looking very young all of a sudden. ‘When you are better you are very welcome to punch six bells out of me at Jackson’s Salon.’

‘I heal well,’ Max said. ‘I might get those punches in before we leave here.’

There was laughter at what Lucy recognised as one of those incompressible male remarks that, instead of actually promising bloody retribution, signalled forgiveness.

‘Now, do not crowd the poor man, you will set his head to aching again,’ Lady Hopewell chided. ‘Come and sit by me, Burnham.’

‘Delightful as the prospect is, Dorothea, I have been flat on my back all afternoon and the prospect of a little mild exercise is tempting.’

She laughed and let him go to saunter around the room, exchanging a word here and there before stopping to talk to Lord Overdene and his aunt, Lady Hermione.

Lucy and Sophia strolled in the other direction and ended up with a group of the younger guests who were debating what to do the next day.

‘What will the weather be like, I wonder?’ Miss Gainford said.

‘It will remain fine, I asked one of the gardeners.’ Mr Doncaster seemed pleased to have the answer for her. ‘The other men assure me he is a local weather prophet and can be relied upon. The breeze will cease, the sun will shine and parasols will be on parade.’

‘Then we will take to the boats and explore the lake,’ Sophia announced. She sounded her usual lively self, but Lucy thought she could detect the strain under the rallying tone. Sophia was a good actress and she had enough pride not to show her feelings, now that the shock of having her dreams so abruptly crushed had lessened.

‘Have you not been out on it before?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were very familiar with this house.’

‘Not since I was quite a child. The weather has never been quite right, or we were doing something else or there was no one I trusted not to hand me a frog or tip me out into the water.’

There was general laughter and Miss Easton embarked on a lively account of how her beastly brother once put two newts down the front of her dress in church and she had screamed in the middle of the sermon.

‘Lucy?’

‘Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was thinking—I am not sure about what. It has been rather a long day.’

‘You were gazing at...at Terence Overdene, I do declare,’ Sophia said. ‘He is dreadfully intellectual, you know,’ she added. ‘Perhaps, like me, you prefer a man with some thoughts in his head beyond race horses and the knot in his neckcloth.’ That was said in a murmur with a nod towards Lord Easton.

‘I haven’t really noticed Lord Overdene,’ Lucy said with perfect honesty. She had been looking at Max, she realised. Thank goodness there was another personable male in the same direction.

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