Read Online How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) by Jayne Fresina - Free Book Online
Authors: Jayne Fresina
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Adult, Travel, Regency, England, 19th century, Novel, Bachelor, Victorian, Britain, reading, bride, escape, Rejection, Book Club, rescue, heartbreak, Forever Love, Single Woman, Charade, London Society, Belles Society, Five Young Ladies, Meetings, Comments, Discussion Group, Hawcombe Prior, Reckless Rake, Marriage Proposal, Three Years, Propose, New Wealth, Rumor Mill, Age Of 25, Suitable Girl, Cousin In Bath, Avoiding, Heart On The Line, Follow
Ads: Link
*
“I certainly would never marry you, Captain. It is quite out of the question. What can you be thinking?”
“I know I’m a rogue with a repertoire of wicked jokes, absolutely no sense of propriety, and the grace of a plow horse on the dance floor”—he grinned—“but I do not believe you can say you have no feelings for me whatsoever. Say that you do not, Diana. Say it and I’ll believe you.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous. Of course I have feelings for you.”
In that second his heart had lifted. Only to be trampled and shattered in the next instant when she added, “I find you annoying, provoking, petulant, spoiled, and slightly unhinged. My feelings are that and only that.”
Recovering as best he could, he replied on a short exhale, “I suppose some feelings are better than none.”
She’d looked at him then in surprise, those expressive brows arched high. “If you can be content with that, it is no wonder you’re always pleased with yourself. I daresay if I didn’t care what people thought of me I could be eternally smug too and congratulate myself at every opportunity on my faults.”
* * *
Proving herself a mercenary, Diana had sacrificed herself to another instead. A man of “stability” and wealth, handpicked by her mother; a man for whom she felt even less than she had for Nathaniel.
“William Shaw rouses no emotion in me at all,” she’d admitted, “and I am thankful for it.”
To her, emotions were an abomination.
Nathaniel supposed that was why he had kissed her—to try and make her feel something real, something her mother had not taught her about.
Now she was just another girl he’d once kissed. There were many.
He sat up again and groaned. No good. Couldn’t sleep. Needed to be doing something.
So he left his room and went downstairs to the quiet kitchen where he spent a good hour polishing his boots. By the time he was done they gleamed like glass, his arm ached, and he was quite certain he’d erased all thoughts of Diana—now Mrs. William Shaw—from his mind.
Six
He had not forgiven Anne Elliot. She had used him ill; deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shown a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident temper could not endure. She had given him up to oblige others.
—Persuasion
It was with a much clearer head and happier temperament that he rode to Willow Tree Farm the next morning after breakfast. He was delighted to meet his little nephew for he’d always been fond of children. They were artless, curious, and had not yet formed a single judgment on anything more serious than whether or not they liked strawberry jam.
As for his sister’s stepdaughter, Miss Sarah Wainwright, he reserved his opinion for now. Her eyes were just a little too knowing, and she was the quiet sort. He’d had his fill of those. The girl became more animated, however, when prompted by his sister to bring out her portfolio of sketches.
One of the first sheets that fell out onto the table portrayed a too-familiar image and made Nathaniel start so suddenly that he bit his inner cheek.
“This is Diana Makepiece,” said Sarah. “It was very difficult to get her to sit for me, and when it was done, she said I could keep it. I thought she might want it framed, but she did not.”
Across the room, playing with the little boy on her lap, his sister had turned to look at him. He felt the cautious regard in her worried gaze, so he forced a smile and said, “Ah, but who is this?” He focused Sarah’s attention on another sketch, a drawing of one of the harvest workers apparently. His hand remained a moment on the picture of Diana and, when he thought he could do so unobserved, he glanced at it again.
Couldn’t help it. Ah yes, why not torture himself anew?
Sarah had called her Diana Makepiece , so this must have been drawn before her marriage.
In the sketch her face was calm, just as he remembered it from before—not as it was two nights ago
“I certainly would never marry you, Captain. It is quite out of the question. What can you be thinking?”
“I know I’m a rogue with a repertoire of wicked jokes, absolutely no sense of propriety, and the grace of a plow horse on the dance floor”—he grinned—“but I do not believe you can say you have no feelings for me whatsoever. Say that you do not, Diana. Say it and I’ll believe you.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous. Of course I have feelings for you.”
In that second his heart had lifted. Only to be trampled and shattered in the next instant when she added, “I find you annoying, provoking, petulant, spoiled, and slightly unhinged. My feelings are that and only that.”
Recovering as best he could, he replied on a short exhale, “I suppose some feelings are better than none.”
She’d looked at him then in surprise, those expressive brows arched high. “If you can be content with that, it is no wonder you’re always pleased with yourself. I daresay if I didn’t care what people thought of me I could be eternally smug too and congratulate myself at every opportunity on my faults.”
* * *
Proving herself a mercenary, Diana had sacrificed herself to another instead. A man of “stability” and wealth, handpicked by her mother; a man for whom she felt even less than she had for Nathaniel.
“William Shaw rouses no emotion in me at all,” she’d admitted, “and I am thankful for it.”
To her, emotions were an abomination.
Nathaniel supposed that was why he had kissed her—to try and make her feel something real, something her mother had not taught her about.
Now she was just another girl he’d once kissed. There were many.
He sat up again and groaned. No good. Couldn’t sleep. Needed to be doing something.
So he left his room and went downstairs to the quiet kitchen where he spent a good hour polishing his boots. By the time he was done they gleamed like glass, his arm ached, and he was quite certain he’d erased all thoughts of Diana—now Mrs. William Shaw—from his mind.
Six
He had not forgiven Anne Elliot. She had used him ill; deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shown a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident temper could not endure. She had given him up to oblige others.
—Persuasion
It was with a much clearer head and happier temperament that he rode to Willow Tree Farm the next morning after breakfast. He was delighted to meet his little nephew for he’d always been fond of children. They were artless, curious, and had not yet formed a single judgment on anything more serious than whether or not they liked strawberry jam.
As for his sister’s stepdaughter, Miss Sarah Wainwright, he reserved his opinion for now. Her eyes were just a little too knowing, and she was the quiet sort. He’d had his fill of those. The girl became more animated, however, when prompted by his sister to bring out her portfolio of sketches.
One of the first sheets that fell out onto the table portrayed a too-familiar image and made Nathaniel start so suddenly that he bit his inner cheek.
“This is Diana Makepiece,” said Sarah. “It was very difficult to get her to sit for me, and when it was done, she said I could keep it. I thought she might want it framed, but she did not.”
Across the room, playing with the little boy on her lap, his sister had turned to look at him. He felt the cautious regard in her worried gaze, so he forced a smile and said, “Ah, but who is this?” He focused Sarah’s attention on another sketch, a drawing of one of the harvest workers apparently. His hand remained a moment on the picture of Diana and, when he thought he could do so unobserved, he glanced at it again.
Couldn’t help it. Ah yes, why not torture himself anew?
Sarah had called her Diana Makepiece , so this must have been drawn before her marriage.
In the sketch her face was calm, just as he remembered it from before—not as it was two nights ago
Similar Books
