Read Online A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) by Stephanie Patterson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Patterson
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person, her maid trailing along after her holding several small packages. Why the devil had he bothered following her, Michael thought irritably. He would have been better off seeking his own bed after last night’s wicked pursuits – or perhaps Nell Hargrave’s bed.
Unfortunately, after the impromptu carriage ride through Hyde Park two mornings ago, he’d made his excuses to the distinguished courtesan rather than accept her offer to join her for a private breakfast. He’d been a damned fool. La belle Hargrave had practically started negotiations for her exclusive services there and then, an opportunity for which most men in London would have given everything they owned, their wives included. Nell hadn’t been pleased with his tactful, but firm refusal. Michael’s demurs wounded her pride and he knew it would be a cold day in hell before she granted him so much as a waltz and all because he couldn’t get a pair of frightened, amber eyes out of his mind.
Lady Arabella was a spoiled little piece, granted. She was willful, petulant and very beautiful. She also held a touch of vulnerability that surfaced at odd times. Even when he'd forced her into dancing with him, her eyes had darted warily around the ballroom as though she feared who might be watching them. She’d made an enemy of Rafe Kingsford too, no doubt about it, and that was something most men weren’t brave enough to do. His brief conversation with Lord Ambrose and the blathering of that twit, Arlington made Michael realized that what had happened between the Furies and Rafe’s half-sister, Damaris, involved much more than mere cattiness. Kingsford set great store by his sister and from what Michael knew of her she was considered to be both lovely and gracious. She’d also been Araby’s rival – just the sort of victim into whom the Furies liked sinking their teeth.
According to rumor, the Winston chit had set her cap for Michael’s good friend, Jules Wentworth, the Marquess of Arland, and the Duke of Strathmore’s heir. The Kingsford girl had caught Jules eye and the Furies hadn’t liked any girl of modest background poaching the Incomparable’s intended prey. Arlington indicated something unpleasant had occurred between the four young women, something that may have caused Jules to unexpectedly run off and marry the lovely Damaris Kingsford. Michael hadn’t seen his friend since returning to England and it might be a good idea to learn what Jules knew of his bride’s history with the Furies. For the life of him, Michael couldn’t explain why he should care one way, or another if Kingsford tore the little baggages apart, but for some inexplicable reason, he did care – at least he cared where Araby Winston was concerned.
Michael watched her pause to speak to William Cathcart’s younger sister, Muriel. Whatever she’d said made Muriel turn an unbecoming shade of red. Araby didn’t stop there, of course. She continued the conversation until the girl looked to be on the verge of tears. Only then did she nod and move on. His palm tingled to teach Araby some manners by swatting the dust straight out of her pantalets. Just as he thought he might succumb to one of his baser impulses, she paused at the street corner where a flower girl of thirteen, or fourteen stood forlornly by a crushed basket of nosegays. He moved a little closer, but stayed out of their line of sight.
Araby spoke quietly to the girl, who wrung her hands. Whatever Araby said made the girl’s face pinch up and she began to cry as well. He felt anger surge through him. Picking on a debutante was one thing, but a poor girl who’d clearly lost not only today’s wages, but many future ones as well, was outside of enough. The girl would likely go hungry for days before managing to scraped together funds to buy new stock. He determined he’d give the girl money himself when suddenly, the scourge of the ballroom set did something completely unexpected. She reached out and placed a
Unfortunately, after the impromptu carriage ride through Hyde Park two mornings ago, he’d made his excuses to the distinguished courtesan rather than accept her offer to join her for a private breakfast. He’d been a damned fool. La belle Hargrave had practically started negotiations for her exclusive services there and then, an opportunity for which most men in London would have given everything they owned, their wives included. Nell hadn’t been pleased with his tactful, but firm refusal. Michael’s demurs wounded her pride and he knew it would be a cold day in hell before she granted him so much as a waltz and all because he couldn’t get a pair of frightened, amber eyes out of his mind.
Lady Arabella was a spoiled little piece, granted. She was willful, petulant and very beautiful. She also held a touch of vulnerability that surfaced at odd times. Even when he'd forced her into dancing with him, her eyes had darted warily around the ballroom as though she feared who might be watching them. She’d made an enemy of Rafe Kingsford too, no doubt about it, and that was something most men weren’t brave enough to do. His brief conversation with Lord Ambrose and the blathering of that twit, Arlington made Michael realized that what had happened between the Furies and Rafe’s half-sister, Damaris, involved much more than mere cattiness. Kingsford set great store by his sister and from what Michael knew of her she was considered to be both lovely and gracious. She’d also been Araby’s rival – just the sort of victim into whom the Furies liked sinking their teeth.
According to rumor, the Winston chit had set her cap for Michael’s good friend, Jules Wentworth, the Marquess of Arland, and the Duke of Strathmore’s heir. The Kingsford girl had caught Jules eye and the Furies hadn’t liked any girl of modest background poaching the Incomparable’s intended prey. Arlington indicated something unpleasant had occurred between the four young women, something that may have caused Jules to unexpectedly run off and marry the lovely Damaris Kingsford. Michael hadn’t seen his friend since returning to England and it might be a good idea to learn what Jules knew of his bride’s history with the Furies. For the life of him, Michael couldn’t explain why he should care one way, or another if Kingsford tore the little baggages apart, but for some inexplicable reason, he did care – at least he cared where Araby Winston was concerned.
Michael watched her pause to speak to William Cathcart’s younger sister, Muriel. Whatever she’d said made Muriel turn an unbecoming shade of red. Araby didn’t stop there, of course. She continued the conversation until the girl looked to be on the verge of tears. Only then did she nod and move on. His palm tingled to teach Araby some manners by swatting the dust straight out of her pantalets. Just as he thought he might succumb to one of his baser impulses, she paused at the street corner where a flower girl of thirteen, or fourteen stood forlornly by a crushed basket of nosegays. He moved a little closer, but stayed out of their line of sight.
Araby spoke quietly to the girl, who wrung her hands. Whatever Araby said made the girl’s face pinch up and she began to cry as well. He felt anger surge through him. Picking on a debutante was one thing, but a poor girl who’d clearly lost not only today’s wages, but many future ones as well, was outside of enough. The girl would likely go hungry for days before managing to scraped together funds to buy new stock. He determined he’d give the girl money himself when suddenly, the scourge of the ballroom set did something completely unexpected. She reached out and placed a
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