Read Online Further Than Passion by Cheryl Holt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cheryl Holt
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I advised her to return the ring to its owner, and to pray it doesn't wend its way back to her, but I doubt my prescription will be of benefit."
"Why?"
The man's eyes glazed over, and his voice sounded far away. "Once Fate has intervened, there's no changing the result."
With the pronouncement, Marcus could have sworn
70
a f ri gid wind blew out of nowhere, swirled around his legs, and slithered up his trousers. It was the eeriest sensation he'd ever felt, and he shivered.
"If she comes in again, contact me." He retrieved his card and set it on the counter, but the man seemed to be in a trance. Unsettled by their conversation, he rushed out without a good-bye.
******************
Melanie fanned herself, eager to cool down. The crowd assembled in Lady Pamela's parlor was much smaller than the night befor e — j ust thirty peopl e — a nd the chairs had been rearranged for dancing. A musical duo huddled in the corner, playing the pianoforte and violin, but she'd enjoyed so many trips around the floor that she'd had to catch her breath.
She adored dancing, and leapt in whenever she had the chance, which was rare. Regina didn't countenance such folderol, but she'd relaxed her rules. In London, everyone danced, so Melanie could, too, because if there was one thing Regina couldn't abide, it was sticking out, or behaving incorrectly.
Regina had never gotten over their humble origins and, to Melanie's perpetual chagrin, was forever trying to fit in but never succeeding.
She'd like to stroll in the yard, but with Kate banished from the festivities, Melanie was without a chaperone, and thus stuck in the house, which made her furious.
Kate was always showing off and drawing attention to herself. Melanie was weary of her undisciplined conduct, especially when there was so much riding on the assistance Melanie needed her to supply.
71
When Kate wasn't permitted in the same room with Stamford, how wer e they to administer the potion?
Beside her, a gentleman sidled closer. He was an individual of little consequenc e — t he son of a dishonored, poverty-stricken barone t — s o during supper he'd been seated far down the table. Regina had been incensed by his lowly presence, but everyone else was cordial to him.
He was much older than Melanie was, probably Stamford's age or greater, and he wasn't handsome, as were many of the male guests. His blond hair was balding, his face was ruddy and pockmarked, and he was very thin, as if he never ate when he should. But he was dressed fashionably, which was a sign of wealth, and that he wasn't the slacker her mother insisted.
All evening, he'd been watching her, and she reveled in his assessment. His regard was the exact sort she should be receiving from Stamford, the lout!
When would Stamford realize that she was not only pretty, but rich? Her dowry was fat and ripe, filled as it was with the money and property that should have been Kate's. Melanie wasn't meant to know from where the assets had derived, but occasionally she couldn't help overhearing.
She peeked to the side, meeting the man's gaze, and she was thrilled by his overt admiration. At least one fellow in the blasted mansion recognized a prize when he stared at it!
Anxious to look taller and more mature, she straightened. She wouldn't have him assuming she was a child, as Stamford seemed to do. With her shoulders back, her bosom thrust out, the bodice of her new gown
72
accented her figure, and he relished the sight, though he attempted to shield his piqued interest.
He moved to her, bowed, and brazenly introduced himself. "Lady Melanie, Mr. Elliot Featherstone, at your service."
"Hello, Mr. Featherstone."
"Welcome to London." He leaned nearer. "You dance like an angel. You're so graceful."
She blushed. "Why, thank you."
"I'd ask you to partner with me, but I'm terrible at it."
'That's quite all right. I'm needing a rest myself. It's so hot in here."
"I was pondering the very same. I could use some
"Why?"
The man's eyes glazed over, and his voice sounded far away. "Once Fate has intervened, there's no changing the result."
With the pronouncement, Marcus could have sworn
70
a f ri gid wind blew out of nowhere, swirled around his legs, and slithered up his trousers. It was the eeriest sensation he'd ever felt, and he shivered.
"If she comes in again, contact me." He retrieved his card and set it on the counter, but the man seemed to be in a trance. Unsettled by their conversation, he rushed out without a good-bye.
******************
Melanie fanned herself, eager to cool down. The crowd assembled in Lady Pamela's parlor was much smaller than the night befor e — j ust thirty peopl e — a nd the chairs had been rearranged for dancing. A musical duo huddled in the corner, playing the pianoforte and violin, but she'd enjoyed so many trips around the floor that she'd had to catch her breath.
She adored dancing, and leapt in whenever she had the chance, which was rare. Regina didn't countenance such folderol, but she'd relaxed her rules. In London, everyone danced, so Melanie could, too, because if there was one thing Regina couldn't abide, it was sticking out, or behaving incorrectly.
Regina had never gotten over their humble origins and, to Melanie's perpetual chagrin, was forever trying to fit in but never succeeding.
She'd like to stroll in the yard, but with Kate banished from the festivities, Melanie was without a chaperone, and thus stuck in the house, which made her furious.
Kate was always showing off and drawing attention to herself. Melanie was weary of her undisciplined conduct, especially when there was so much riding on the assistance Melanie needed her to supply.
71
When Kate wasn't permitted in the same room with Stamford, how wer e they to administer the potion?
Beside her, a gentleman sidled closer. He was an individual of little consequenc e — t he son of a dishonored, poverty-stricken barone t — s o during supper he'd been seated far down the table. Regina had been incensed by his lowly presence, but everyone else was cordial to him.
He was much older than Melanie was, probably Stamford's age or greater, and he wasn't handsome, as were many of the male guests. His blond hair was balding, his face was ruddy and pockmarked, and he was very thin, as if he never ate when he should. But he was dressed fashionably, which was a sign of wealth, and that he wasn't the slacker her mother insisted.
All evening, he'd been watching her, and she reveled in his assessment. His regard was the exact sort she should be receiving from Stamford, the lout!
When would Stamford realize that she was not only pretty, but rich? Her dowry was fat and ripe, filled as it was with the money and property that should have been Kate's. Melanie wasn't meant to know from where the assets had derived, but occasionally she couldn't help overhearing.
She peeked to the side, meeting the man's gaze, and she was thrilled by his overt admiration. At least one fellow in the blasted mansion recognized a prize when he stared at it!
Anxious to look taller and more mature, she straightened. She wouldn't have him assuming she was a child, as Stamford seemed to do. With her shoulders back, her bosom thrust out, the bodice of her new gown
72
accented her figure, and he relished the sight, though he attempted to shield his piqued interest.
He moved to her, bowed, and brazenly introduced himself. "Lady Melanie, Mr. Elliot Featherstone, at your service."
"Hello, Mr. Featherstone."
"Welcome to London." He leaned nearer. "You dance like an angel. You're so graceful."
She blushed. "Why, thank you."
"I'd ask you to partner with me, but I'm terrible at it."
'That's quite all right. I'm needing a rest myself. It's so hot in here."
"I was pondering the very same. I could use some
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