apology.’
Jessica nodded. ‘You are forgiven. We were both overset, I think.’
He said awkwardly, ‘I am afraid that Harry is shortly to be betrothed to Miss Habard.’
She gave a little sigh. ‘Fortune is so important in this day and age, is it not?’
‘It is, and particularly among the richest families. I suppose that is why families like the Deverses are so rich. They always marry well. It can bring a great deal of sadness, young girls married to old men, or married to brutal husbands. Are you very disappointed?’
‘No, it brought me to my senses. You must have noticed how happy we are now that we have no hopes of Mannerling. I shall never think of Mannerling again.’
And in such a way, thought Robert sadly, he had heard hardened gamblers vow, ‘I will never play cards again,’ only to find them back at the tables the following week. He sent up a little prayer that Harry
would
marry Miss Habard, and as soon as possible.
Harry was at that moment leading Miss Habard towards the rose garden. She was not Jessica Beverley, he reflected, but a shapely little thing for all that, and with a roguish twinkle in her eyes that he liked. She had a profusion of glossy brown curls under a chip-straw bonnet and wore a thin muslin gown, which showed a great deal of her plump figure. The amount of white brandy he had consumed during the day was swimming pleasurably around his senses. He had brought Miss Habard to the rose garden to propose. He had called earlier that day on her parents and gained their permission. He knew they were above stairs in the drawing room with
his
parents, eagerly awaiting the happy announcement.
It seemed ages since he had had a woman, however, and his eyes gleamed with a feral look as Miss Habard dimpled up at him.
‘You are a little charmer,’ he said. ‘Did I ever tell you that?’
‘Oh, sir,’ said Miss Habard, blushing adorably, or so he thought.
Time to go into action. Get the proposal over with and then sample the wares.
He felt he should get down on one knee, but the fresh air was making him feel more tipsy and he didn’t want to find out that he could not get up again. So he turned to face her and said huskily, ‘Do you know why I have brought you out here?’
Again that blush. She whispered, ‘Papa told me that you wish to marry me.’
‘Yes, my sweet.’
‘Oh, Mr Devers, you make me the happiest of women.’
‘Thought I might,’ said Harry. ‘Yes, and I’ve decided to sell out.’
‘Papa told me you had said so, and he has chosen a tidy property for us quite nearby. It is the most darling house . . .’
‘Wait a bit,’ said Harry angrily. ‘I will decide where we live, and we’ll live here.’
Miss Habard’s slightly protuberant brown eyes looked up into his own with a stubborn expression. ‘Live at Mannerling, with your parents? It would not answer.’
‘I’ll ask ’em to move out.’
Her lip trembled. She took his arm and said coaxingly, ‘But you don’t want to live in a great big place like this, do you?’
Her soft breast pressed against his arm. He could feel the heat from her body.
He said thickly, ‘Forget the house. We’ve got more enjoyable things to do.’
He seized her in his arms and his mouth bore down on hers. His hands groped over delicious mounds of plump body, breasts, buttocks, and waist. His senses reeled and the rose garden swam away in a red mist, and then through that mist he heard her crying and pleading, felt her hands hammering at his shoulders. A window above opened and his mother’s voice shouted out, sharp with alarm, ‘Harry!’
He released her and swore loudly and viciously. She backed away from him, hot tears running down her face. Then she turned and ran, stumbling in her haste, from the rose garden.
He stood alone among the roses. He needed a drink. He was not going upstairs to get a jaw-me-dead. He went up to his room by the back stairs and poured himself a glass of brandy from the bottle beside the
Jessica nodded. ‘You are forgiven. We were both overset, I think.’
He said awkwardly, ‘I am afraid that Harry is shortly to be betrothed to Miss Habard.’
She gave a little sigh. ‘Fortune is so important in this day and age, is it not?’
‘It is, and particularly among the richest families. I suppose that is why families like the Deverses are so rich. They always marry well. It can bring a great deal of sadness, young girls married to old men, or married to brutal husbands. Are you very disappointed?’
‘No, it brought me to my senses. You must have noticed how happy we are now that we have no hopes of Mannerling. I shall never think of Mannerling again.’
And in such a way, thought Robert sadly, he had heard hardened gamblers vow, ‘I will never play cards again,’ only to find them back at the tables the following week. He sent up a little prayer that Harry
would
marry Miss Habard, and as soon as possible.
Harry was at that moment leading Miss Habard towards the rose garden. She was not Jessica Beverley, he reflected, but a shapely little thing for all that, and with a roguish twinkle in her eyes that he liked. She had a profusion of glossy brown curls under a chip-straw bonnet and wore a thin muslin gown, which showed a great deal of her plump figure. The amount of white brandy he had consumed during the day was swimming pleasurably around his senses. He had brought Miss Habard to the rose garden to propose. He had called earlier that day on her parents and gained their permission. He knew they were above stairs in the drawing room with
his
parents, eagerly awaiting the happy announcement.
It seemed ages since he had had a woman, however, and his eyes gleamed with a feral look as Miss Habard dimpled up at him.
‘You are a little charmer,’ he said. ‘Did I ever tell you that?’
‘Oh, sir,’ said Miss Habard, blushing adorably, or so he thought.
Time to go into action. Get the proposal over with and then sample the wares.
He felt he should get down on one knee, but the fresh air was making him feel more tipsy and he didn’t want to find out that he could not get up again. So he turned to face her and said huskily, ‘Do you know why I have brought you out here?’
Again that blush. She whispered, ‘Papa told me that you wish to marry me.’
‘Yes, my sweet.’
‘Oh, Mr Devers, you make me the happiest of women.’
‘Thought I might,’ said Harry. ‘Yes, and I’ve decided to sell out.’
‘Papa told me you had said so, and he has chosen a tidy property for us quite nearby. It is the most darling house . . .’
‘Wait a bit,’ said Harry angrily. ‘I will decide where we live, and we’ll live here.’
Miss Habard’s slightly protuberant brown eyes looked up into his own with a stubborn expression. ‘Live at Mannerling, with your parents? It would not answer.’
‘I’ll ask ’em to move out.’
Her lip trembled. She took his arm and said coaxingly, ‘But you don’t want to live in a great big place like this, do you?’
Her soft breast pressed against his arm. He could feel the heat from her body.
He said thickly, ‘Forget the house. We’ve got more enjoyable things to do.’
He seized her in his arms and his mouth bore down on hers. His hands groped over delicious mounds of plump body, breasts, buttocks, and waist. His senses reeled and the rose garden swam away in a red mist, and then through that mist he heard her crying and pleading, felt her hands hammering at his shoulders. A window above opened and his mother’s voice shouted out, sharp with alarm, ‘Harry!’
He released her and swore loudly and viciously. She backed away from him, hot tears running down her face. Then she turned and ran, stumbling in her haste, from the rose garden.
He stood alone among the roses. He needed a drink. He was not going upstairs to get a jaw-me-dead. He went up to his room by the back stairs and poured himself a glass of brandy from the bottle beside the
Similar Books
