A Regency Scandal by Alice Chetwynd Ley

Author:Alice Chetwynd Ley [Chetwynd Ley, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2020-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XXII

Shaldon chuckled as he continued on his way to Berkeley Street. Really, it was too absurd of the chit to build such a house of cards on a few chance remarks made weeks ago, and by Bertram Durrant, of all people! Anyone who had been acquainted with them as boys would know very well that Durrant had always felt spiteful towards his playmates simply because they belonged to a more elevated sphere than himself, and most of all towards Shaldon, as the heir to a great title and estate. Knowing this, who in their senses would heed a few cryptic utterances, no doubt tossed off as a relief to Durrant’s spleen?

Only Helen Somerby, he thought, smiling as he recalled the vivid imagination that had peopled the wood where they played as children with fairy-tale figures, gallant Princes rescuing beautiful maidens from wicked ogres and the like. Evidently she had not changed so completely as her outward appearance — and vastly charming, too! — might suggest. But she was now trying to reverse the time-honoured formula of the fairy story in making the beautiful maiden come to the rescue of the Prince. He must remember to quiz her about that when next they met.

Arrived at the Lydneys’ house in Berkeley Street, he was shown up into the drawing room, an elegant apartment in white and gold with crimson hangings. Lord Lydney and Henry were already sitting there and invited him to join them in a glass of sherry wine while they awaited the arrival of the ladies. Although Henry Lydney and Shaldon were frequently together, it was seldom that they met in Baron Lydney’s town house, the younger men naturally seeking the society of their contemporaries. On this occasion, Shaldon suspected that he had been asked to dine there so that he might meet Miss Cynthia Lydney informally before she emerged upon the London social scene in all the glory of a coming-out ball. It was only to be supposed that his father had made some tentative approach to Lord Lydney concerning the possibility of a match between Miss Lydney and himself; and no doubt, he reflected cynically, the lady wished to look him over.

Which she did, very prettily, when she and her Mama entered the room a while later. She saw some resemblance to the schoolboy she remembered in this tall, personable gentleman with the Stratton features and auburn hair; but the coltish look had vanished with the years, giving way to an air of easy assurance that at times bordered on the cynical. There was nothing cynical at present in the look he bestowed on her as he made his bow, a look compounded of surprise and approval. Cynthia Lydney had been a pretty child, but she had developed into what he would unhesitatingly have declared a stunning girl. He had seen plenty of pretty girls in his years on the Town, but there was a striking difference in this one. Those dark, provocative eyes, that seductive way

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