Read Online Ice Angel by Elizabeth Hanbury - Free Book Online Page B

swept outside, and was helped into a luxurious carriage. As she waited for her husband, she idly and rather dismissively observed those members of London society who passed by in their curricles and phaetons, acknowledging those she knew and delighted by the number of admiring glances she received from the gentlemen. Suddenly, at the approach of a smart curricle with two occupants, her attention became acute and she studied with a great deal of interest the tall, dark-haired man handling the ribbons of the matched bays. Lord Bramwell did not notice her immediately – his attention was focused on driving his high-spirited thoroughbreds through the busy street and he was also deep in conversation with the petite, dark-haired young woman at his side.
    ‘Julia has grown into quite a beauty,’ murmured Lady Portland, pleased that his lordship was, today at least, only in the company of his sister. As Lord Bramwell’s carriage drew nearer, Felicity smiled and slowly inclined her head towards its occupants; she had every intention of being recognized and appreciated by its driver.
    When Julia, who had persuaded Hal to take her to Rundell, Bridge & Rundell to collect her new ear-rings after leaving Isabella, observed the striking redhead in the carriage outside number 32 Ludgate Hill, she cried, ‘Goodness! Do you see that woman, Hal? I swear it is Felicity Portland.’
    ‘It is,’ he said grimly. ‘Freddy told me that she was back in London. Forgive me, Julia, but I’m going to drive on – I prefer to avoid Lady Portland today.’
    They drove past and Julia, glancing at her brother’s stern profile, raised her brows in surprise. ‘But why has she returned? I thought she was living on the Continent for the sake of Portland’s health.’
    ‘She must have her reasons and they are probably selfish ones: Felicity always put her wishes above those of anyone else. Now she is back among the ton , I’ll be civil if our paths cross, but no more. I feel nothing for her and know now that I never did.’
    ‘Well, she is still very lovely, but shockingly de trop – that muslin was entirely unsuitable for a carriage dress,’ observed Julia tartly.
    ‘She always encouraged attention.’ Lord Bramwell frowned, flicked his whip at his wheelers and muttered under his breath, ‘Damn her to hell!’ Lady Portland had proved herself in the past to be a spoilt, vindictive woman and Hal was not sanguine that Lord Portland would have subdued her manipulative nature. An easy-going man by reputation, Portland would be no match for his wife when she was determined to get her way. Hal sincerely hoped that he could avoid Lady Portland during her stay in London.
    His frown was replaced by a smile as his thoughts returned to Isabella. He found that he loved simply watching her: her innate grace, the movement of her lips as she spoke, the curve of her cheek, her profile, the sound of her voice. To his relief, her manner had not been as frosty as at their first meeting and Hal had even been conscious of her tension ebbing away until something had caused it to return. Julia, it seemed, had not noticed this, but Hal had sensed her retreat instinctively.
    He wanted to know what was in Isabella’s heart, to earn her trust and to somehow ease the burden of her unhappiness. Was she still mourning her late husband? Perhaps she had loved him dearly, or perhaps her marriage had been an unhappy one which held painful memories. Having watched Isabella, Hal thought it more likely to be the latter; her sadness did not seem to be the desolation felt from loss of a loved one, but rather the brittle, bleak anguish of torment.
    Meanwhile, Lady Portland, who was observing with impatience her husband’s attempts to climb into the carriage without causing further discomfort to his gout-ridden foot, felt a shiver of anticipation. Seeing Lord Bramwell again had hardened her resolve. She had already determined that it was high time she embarked on a serious affair.