Read Online A Christmas Bride / A Christmas Beau by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page B

must grant that, Mr. Downes. Or are you so grounded in the practicalities of a business life that you have not realized that life is ultimately not worth living at all? Realism—or despair.”
    He had been enjoying their lively discussion. He had almost forgotten with whom he spoke—or at least he had almost forgotten that she was last night’s lover, to whom he had come this morning in some embarrassment. But he was jolted by her words. The smile on her lips, he noticed now, was tinged with bitterness. Was she talking theoretically? Or was she talking about herself?
    She gave him no chance to answer. She took a sip from her cup and her expression lightened. “But you came to town for pleasure, too,” she said. “Tell me about that, Mr. Downes. For what sort of pleasure did you hope when you came here?” Her smile was once more pure mockery.
    To his mortification Edgar felt himself flush. “Mysister and brother-in-law were to be here the same time as me,” he said. “They have insisted upon taking me about with them.”
    “How old are you, Mr. Downes?” she asked.
    She had a knack for throwing him off balance. He answered before he could consider not doing so. “I am six-and-thirty, ma’am,” he said.
    “Ah, the same age as me,” she said. “But we will not compare birthdays. I was married at the age of nineteen, Mr. Downes, to a man of fifty-four. I was married to him for seven years. I have no wish to repeat the experience. I have earned my freedom. But it is an experience everyone should be required to have at least once in a lifetime. You have come to London in search of a wife?”
    He stared at her, speechless. Did she really expect him to answer?
    She laughed. “It is hardly even an educated guess,” she said. “Sir Webster Grainger and his lady were determinedly courting you last evening. They are in desperate search of a wealthy husband for poor Miss Grainger. I daresay you are very rich indeed. Are you?”
    He ignored the question. “
Poor
Miss Grainger?” he said. He was feeling decidedly irritable again. How dare she probe into his personal life like this? Would she be doing so if he were a gentleman? “You believe she would be pitied if she married me, ma’am?”
    “Very much so,” she said. “You are sixteen years her senior, sir. That may not seem a huge gap in age to you and me—we both know that you are vigorous and in your prime. But it would appear an enormous age difference to a very young lady, Mr. Downes. Especially one who has a prior attachment—but a quite ineligible one, of course.”
    He frowned. Was she deliberately goading him? He could not quite believe he was having this conversationwith her. But was it true? Did Miss Grainger have an attachment to someone else?
    “You need not look so stricken, Mr. Downes,” she said. “It is a common thing, you know. Young ladies of
ton
are merely commodities, you see. Sometimes people make the mistake of thinking that they are persons, but they are not. They are commodities their fathers may use to enhance or repair their fortunes. Unfortunately, young ladies have feelings and an alarming tendency to fall in love without sparing a single thought to the state of their fathers’ fortunes. They soon learn. That is one thing women are good at.”
    This, he thought, was a bitter woman indeed. And doubtless an intelligent woman. Too intelligent for her own good, perhaps.
    “Is that what happened to you?” he asked. “You loved another man?”
    She smiled. “He is married now with five children,” she said. “He was kind enough to offer me the position of mistress after I was widowed. I declined. I will be no man’s mistress.” Her eyes mocked and challenged him.
    He got to his feet. “I have taken too much of your time, ma’am,” he said. “I thank you for the coffee. I—”
    “If you are going to apologize again for your discourtesy in bedding me without saying ‘please,’ Mr. Downes,” she said, “I beg you to