The Pilfered Plume by Sandra Heath

Author:Sandra Heath [Heath, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1989-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Benedict arrived just as Mary put the final touch to Linnet’s hair. The evening light was golden, and the shadows very dark and long. Candles had been lit.

The gray lace gown by Madame Leclerc looked perfect for the occasion, and not at all like a last-year’s acquisition. The gray taffeta petticoat was sleeveless and clinging, and the overgown was made of the richest Brussels lace available. It had a daring neckline, and long, tight sleeves, and was set off exquisitely by a ruby necklace and earrings.

Mary had taken great pains with Linnet’s hair, leaving some soft curls to frame her face, and twisting the rest back into a smooth knot from which tumbled a cascade of little ringlets, each one twined with a thin gray satin ribbon. The ribbons fluttered a little as she rose to look out at the arriving carriage.

Mary smiled. “Mr. Gresham will think you look lovely tonight, Miss Linnet.”

“I hope so.” Linnet returned the smile.

The maid hurried to fetch the gray gauze shawl and arranged it carefully over her mistress’s arm. Then she brought the carved ivory fan, and Linnet turned to examine her reflection in the cheval glass in the corner of the room.

There was a tap at the door. “Madam?”

“Yes, Sommers? Come in.”

The butler entered, looking very splendid in his best dress livery, his hair hidden beneath a handsome new bagwig. He bowed. “Mr. Gresham has arrived, madam. I’ve shown him into the library.”

“Thank you, Sommers. Is Lady Hartley with him?”

“No, madam, she’s still dressing in her room as is Miss Minton.”

“Thank you, Sommers.”

“Madam.” He bowed again, and withdrew.

Linnet took a final look in the cheval glass, and then hurried out to go to Benedict in the library.

Joseph Carlisle had been very proud of his collection of books, housing them in a fine second floor room overlooking the garden. It was to one side of the ballroom, looking toward the mews lane and Curzon Street, and boasted a number of deep, comfortable armchairs upholstered in dark-brown learner. There was still a vague hint of tobacco smoke in the air, a reminder of the many hours Joseph had spent in his favorite chair by the fireplace. There was another reminder of the past in the painting that hung on the chimneypiece, for it was a view of Radleigh Hall, the family estate Joseph had forfeited to Nicholas’s sleight of hand.

Benedict stood by the fireplace, one foot on the polished fender as he flicked through a book. He wore a black corded silk coat, white pantaloons, a white waistcoat, and a frilled shirt. There was a sapphire pin in his neckcloth, and his white gloves lay on the mantelpiece.

The moment she entered, he replaced the book on the shelf and came to meet her, taking both her hands and raising the palms to his lips.

“You look exquisite, my love,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.

“I want to look my very best for you tonight.”

“And so you do.” He kissed her fingertips. “In a few

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