Read Online A Wedding Wager by Jane Feather - Free Book Online Page A

went to give her brother-in-law, who had risen to his feet, a kiss on the cheek. “How are you, Seb? Perry’s not with you?”
    Sebastian shook his head in mock exasperation.“Why does everyone assume that we walk the world hand in hand?”
    “Because mostly you do,” Clarissa responded. “Should I leave you two alone again?”
    “No, of course not,” Sebastian said swiftly. “I’m on my way, anyway.”
    “Oh, don’t let me drive you away.”
    “You’re not, my dear.” He kissed her lightly. “I really have to go.” He walked to the door. “Thank you for the claret, Jasper … and for the brotherly ear.”
    “You’re more than welcome, dear boy, to either or both. Anytime.” Jasper walked his brother to the door, then stood thoughtfully in the hall, frowning.

    Serena walked quickly to a small, unassuming house on St. James’s Place and lifted the brass knocker. The door opened immediately. The maid curtsied.
    “Is your mistress in?” Serena walked past the girl into the hall.
    “I don’t know as she’s receiving, ma’am.”
    “Ah.” Serena hesitated. If Margaret was entertaining one of her many gentlemen friends, she would not welcome the intrusion, even of a very good friend. “Is she alone?”
    “Oh, yes, m’lady.” The girl bobbed a curtsy. “The gentleman left half an hour ago.”
    “Well, why don’t you run up and ask her if she’llreceive me?” Serena suggested gently. “I’ll wait here. If she’s unable to see me, I’ll leave her a note.”
    The girl curtsied again and scampered upstairs. Serena stood examining a painting she didn’t recognize on the far wall. Margaret’s house was all her own, paid for, for the most part, by her gentlemen friends, but she had always managed to avoid being under the singular protection of any of them. Serena had long envied her, and one day, she was determined, she, too, would have her own little house and entertain her own friends. Except that somehow the prospect of emulating Margaret’s way of life didn’t sit well with her, however she looked at it.
    “Madam will see you at once, m’lady.” The girl bounced down the stairs.
    “Thank you … no, no need to show me up. I know the way.” She went up to the pleasant salon that looked down on the street at the front of the house.
    Margaret Standish was a young widow, whose brief marriage to an elderly merchant had left her in possession of a respectable if not lavish settlement, which she had turned to good use, setting herself up in a charming house on St. James’s Place, where she entertained her numerous gentlemen friends, some more personally than others, and graciously received their appropriate expressions of gratitude.
    She greeted Serena warmly. “My dear, how delightful of you to call.” She came towards her, hands outstretched in welcome. “I have been moping for the lasthour and am sadly in need of diversion.” She took Serena’s hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your note saying you were back in London. Brussels seems an age ago, doesn’t it?” She drew her guest to the fire. “Take off your things, and I’ll ring for tea.”
    “An age,” Serena agreed, discarding her hat and pelisse on a chair before sitting down on an upholstered Chippendale sofa before the fire. “We have been so busy setting up the house since we arrived I’ve had no time to visit anyone.”
    “But you are established now. The house on Pickering Place is on everyone’s lips these days … tea, Clara, please.” She nodded at the maid who had come in answer to the bell.
    “Well, we’ve only been in business for a week, but the general seems happy enough with progress so far … thank heaven,” Serena added with a significant sigh.
    Margaret gave her a look of sympathetic understanding. She knew that when the general was unhappy, everyone in his vicinity suffered accordingly.
    Serena shrugged, effectively dismissing her stepfather from the