Read Online A Game of Persuasion: Extended Prologue for the Art of Ruining a Rake (The Naughty Girls Book 3) by Emma Locke - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Locke
Tags: Romance, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Regency, Historical Romance, Short Stories, Short Stories & Anthologies, Single Authors
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frustration—for surely she couldn’t be expected to withstand such exasperating behavior without some sort of vehement objection—he opened the door. “It appears my destination was on your way, after all. Good day, Miss Lancester. I hope we may continue our informative little tête-à-tête…tonight.”
Chapter 5
SHE RODE THE the rest of the way home in a state of bemusement. What had he meant by that? She couldn’t decide.
It wasn’t a good time to encounter her brother in the foyer, so naturally, they crossed paths almost the moment she set her foot in the house. Just hearing his boot steps as he rounded the corner was enough to make her spine rigid.
An excuse formed on her lips—something about seeing to the less fortunate. He always liked to think she was altruistic.
Yet oddly, he almost passed her by before he jerked to attention, as if suddenly seeing her. “I was just about to—”
She peered at him queerly. Was he making an excuse to her ? What madness was this?
His eyes skirted across the floor. Then, as if he hadn’t been caught at whatever peculiarity he’d been about to engage in, he drew himself into the fusspot she knew him to be. “Mr. Harbottle will be in attendance tonight. I hope you’ll partner him for at least one dance.”
Lucy scowled, even though she’d just been offered an unprecedented opportunity to agree and sail blithely past Trestin’s watch. “I won’t have an aspiring clergyman for a husband.”
It was Trestin’s turn to scowl. Whatever he’d been about, he was focused on her matrimonial prospects now. “Harbottle has two thousand a year and a living within a stone’s throw of Brixcombe. As for his suitability, you can’t possibly find fault in the character of a vicar.”
She wanted so much for her brother to understand her, yet it always came to this. If a man met the bare minimum for eligibility—requirements determined by Trestin, naturally—he deserved at least a quadrille. Never mind her longing for an unfitting man, or her protestations against marrying at all. “I don’t have to find fault with him,” she replied, drawing her bonnet off so that she might quit her brother’s company before they came to shouting, “he simply doesn’t suit me. I wish you’d come to terms with my plans. My School for Accomplished Young Ladies requires a generous amount of seed money. I’d like my dowry, if you please.”
Trestin’s lips turned in a tight smile. “Then we are at an impasse, as I’ve told you more than once that you won’t have a penny from me until you’re wed.”
Lucy bit back yet another unbecoming retort. For the first time, she needn’t argue with him. Twenty-five hundred pounds was a fraction of the money she required. With Celeste’s contribution and a few donations from other like-minded benefactresses, she might not need her dowry at all.
Her mood improved as she realized she had positioned herself to circumvent her brother entirely. “Lord Montborne is looking forward to seeing you tonight,” she said sweetly, knowing it would get under his skin—as it had done hers.
“What makes you say that?”
Lucy smirked and tossed her bonnet onto the entryway table. “He told me so. It appears he, too, looks forward to being told he has the wrong ideas entirely.”
TO SAY SHE spent the first half of Lady Melbourne’s ball waiting for Roman’s arrival was to waste one’s breath. Especially when she usually spent the majority of any entertainment watching for him to make an appearance.
The wine had already been replaced with lemonade by the time Roman troubled himself enough to arrive at the door. To be fair, she had been surprised earlier when he’d implied he’d even come. This rout was hardly up to his usual standards, populated as it was by wallflowers like herself trying to make a good marriage with men who would rather be anywhere else.
Still, when he made a beeline for Trestin—just as he’d promised to do—Lucy felt
Chapter 5
SHE RODE THE the rest of the way home in a state of bemusement. What had he meant by that? She couldn’t decide.
It wasn’t a good time to encounter her brother in the foyer, so naturally, they crossed paths almost the moment she set her foot in the house. Just hearing his boot steps as he rounded the corner was enough to make her spine rigid.
An excuse formed on her lips—something about seeing to the less fortunate. He always liked to think she was altruistic.
Yet oddly, he almost passed her by before he jerked to attention, as if suddenly seeing her. “I was just about to—”
She peered at him queerly. Was he making an excuse to her ? What madness was this?
His eyes skirted across the floor. Then, as if he hadn’t been caught at whatever peculiarity he’d been about to engage in, he drew himself into the fusspot she knew him to be. “Mr. Harbottle will be in attendance tonight. I hope you’ll partner him for at least one dance.”
Lucy scowled, even though she’d just been offered an unprecedented opportunity to agree and sail blithely past Trestin’s watch. “I won’t have an aspiring clergyman for a husband.”
It was Trestin’s turn to scowl. Whatever he’d been about, he was focused on her matrimonial prospects now. “Harbottle has two thousand a year and a living within a stone’s throw of Brixcombe. As for his suitability, you can’t possibly find fault in the character of a vicar.”
She wanted so much for her brother to understand her, yet it always came to this. If a man met the bare minimum for eligibility—requirements determined by Trestin, naturally—he deserved at least a quadrille. Never mind her longing for an unfitting man, or her protestations against marrying at all. “I don’t have to find fault with him,” she replied, drawing her bonnet off so that she might quit her brother’s company before they came to shouting, “he simply doesn’t suit me. I wish you’d come to terms with my plans. My School for Accomplished Young Ladies requires a generous amount of seed money. I’d like my dowry, if you please.”
Trestin’s lips turned in a tight smile. “Then we are at an impasse, as I’ve told you more than once that you won’t have a penny from me until you’re wed.”
Lucy bit back yet another unbecoming retort. For the first time, she needn’t argue with him. Twenty-five hundred pounds was a fraction of the money she required. With Celeste’s contribution and a few donations from other like-minded benefactresses, she might not need her dowry at all.
Her mood improved as she realized she had positioned herself to circumvent her brother entirely. “Lord Montborne is looking forward to seeing you tonight,” she said sweetly, knowing it would get under his skin—as it had done hers.
“What makes you say that?”
Lucy smirked and tossed her bonnet onto the entryway table. “He told me so. It appears he, too, looks forward to being told he has the wrong ideas entirely.”
TO SAY SHE spent the first half of Lady Melbourne’s ball waiting for Roman’s arrival was to waste one’s breath. Especially when she usually spent the majority of any entertainment watching for him to make an appearance.
The wine had already been replaced with lemonade by the time Roman troubled himself enough to arrive at the door. To be fair, she had been surprised earlier when he’d implied he’d even come. This rout was hardly up to his usual standards, populated as it was by wallflowers like herself trying to make a good marriage with men who would rather be anywhere else.
Still, when he made a beeline for Trestin—just as he’d promised to do—Lucy felt
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