Read Online Miss Lacey's Last Fling (A Regency Romance) by Candice Hern - Free Book Online
Authors: Candice Hern
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the boy was unharmed when he scampered up from the grass, Rosie threw back her head and laughed. It was jubilant, exultant laughter, for the sheer reckless thrill of the ride. Good Lord, but that had been fun. She looked over to find Jeremy staring at her open-mouthed.
"Are you mad?" he asked.
"I don't believe so," she replied, and continued to chuckle softly.
"No," Jeremy said, and then took her hands in his. Rosie was astonished to find him gazing ardently into her eyes. She had thought him angry. "No, you are not mad. But I am mad for you, my dear Rosalind. I declare, you are more exciting than any woman I've ever known. Pluck to the backbone. All the rest are nothing more than simpering, fainthearted little chits in comparison. But you, my dear Rosalind, you are magnificent."
Rosie thought he might have kissed her then and there—and she would have let him—had not a small crowd begun to gather around the curricle. Curse it! To be thoroughly kissed after such a thrilling ride— now that would have been a day to remember.
"Outstanding, Miss Lacey!" Sir Cedric Bassett said as he approached. "Never seen a female drive so well in all my life."
* * *
Max slowed his approach when he saw the others surround the vehicle, and could see clearly that Rosalind was unhurt. In fact, she was laughing.
"Don't look like she needs rescuing to me." Sir George Fellowes had been strolling with Max along the Chesterfield Gate footpath, taking stock of the afternoon's population of attractive females, when the shiny red curricle had sped past. Max had recognized Rosalind at once, seen that she held the reins, and assumed she had lost control of the team. Tugging his friend along, he hurried after the carriage with some vague notion of helping to avert danger.
He ought to have known better.
"Well, thank God for that," Max said and waved a hand in front of his face like a fan. "Heroics are much too exhausting."
Fellowes laughed. "Don't believe I ever saw you move so fast, Davenant."
"A momentary madness, I assure you."
"You ain't hanging out for The Lacey, are you?"
"Hanging out?" Max made a great show of looking over his clothing to make sure all was in place. "Egad, I hope not. What a vulgar notion, Fellowes."
"Wouldn't want to move in if you'd already staked a claim, that's all."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well... several of us thought you might be involved, you know. Seen with her a lot, and all that."
Good Lord. This was not a rumor he wanted to see bandied about town. The girl's reputation would be in tatters. "My dear old chap," he said in his most bored tone, "the chit is Fanny's niece, fresh from the country. The rustic types don't appeal to me in the least."
"Nothing rustic about The Lacey." Max turned at the familiar voice of Lord Nicholas Vaughn, who fell into step beside him. "Seems to know a thing or two, that one."
"Just what I thought," Fellowes said. "Lively as they come. I don't care if she is from the country, I'd lay odds the woman knows what's what, unmarried or not. She has this way of looking at a man— "
"Don't she, though?" Vaughn said. "I'd give a monkey to find out what's behind that smile."
"You and everyone else in town," Fellowes said. "Except old Davenant here, apparently."
"On behalf of every man in London," Vaughn said, "I thank you, Davenant, for pulling out of the race. Without your irresistible charm and diabolical good looks, the rest of us may, for once, stand a chance."
"Have a care, gentlemen," Max said, feeling thoroughly uneasy at the direction the conversation was taking. "I do not believe Miss Lacey is quite as up to snuff as you may think. Fanny assures me she has led a quiet life in the country until now."
"And the nut never falls too far from the tree, does it?" Vaughn said. "With Lady Parkhurst as her aunt, and apparently her 'chaperone' as well, it is only to be expected if the girl's a high flyer."
Max flinched at his friend's
"Are you mad?" he asked.
"I don't believe so," she replied, and continued to chuckle softly.
"No," Jeremy said, and then took her hands in his. Rosie was astonished to find him gazing ardently into her eyes. She had thought him angry. "No, you are not mad. But I am mad for you, my dear Rosalind. I declare, you are more exciting than any woman I've ever known. Pluck to the backbone. All the rest are nothing more than simpering, fainthearted little chits in comparison. But you, my dear Rosalind, you are magnificent."
Rosie thought he might have kissed her then and there—and she would have let him—had not a small crowd begun to gather around the curricle. Curse it! To be thoroughly kissed after such a thrilling ride— now that would have been a day to remember.
"Outstanding, Miss Lacey!" Sir Cedric Bassett said as he approached. "Never seen a female drive so well in all my life."
* * *
Max slowed his approach when he saw the others surround the vehicle, and could see clearly that Rosalind was unhurt. In fact, she was laughing.
"Don't look like she needs rescuing to me." Sir George Fellowes had been strolling with Max along the Chesterfield Gate footpath, taking stock of the afternoon's population of attractive females, when the shiny red curricle had sped past. Max had recognized Rosalind at once, seen that she held the reins, and assumed she had lost control of the team. Tugging his friend along, he hurried after the carriage with some vague notion of helping to avert danger.
He ought to have known better.
"Well, thank God for that," Max said and waved a hand in front of his face like a fan. "Heroics are much too exhausting."
Fellowes laughed. "Don't believe I ever saw you move so fast, Davenant."
"A momentary madness, I assure you."
"You ain't hanging out for The Lacey, are you?"
"Hanging out?" Max made a great show of looking over his clothing to make sure all was in place. "Egad, I hope not. What a vulgar notion, Fellowes."
"Wouldn't want to move in if you'd already staked a claim, that's all."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well... several of us thought you might be involved, you know. Seen with her a lot, and all that."
Good Lord. This was not a rumor he wanted to see bandied about town. The girl's reputation would be in tatters. "My dear old chap," he said in his most bored tone, "the chit is Fanny's niece, fresh from the country. The rustic types don't appeal to me in the least."
"Nothing rustic about The Lacey." Max turned at the familiar voice of Lord Nicholas Vaughn, who fell into step beside him. "Seems to know a thing or two, that one."
"Just what I thought," Fellowes said. "Lively as they come. I don't care if she is from the country, I'd lay odds the woman knows what's what, unmarried or not. She has this way of looking at a man— "
"Don't she, though?" Vaughn said. "I'd give a monkey to find out what's behind that smile."
"You and everyone else in town," Fellowes said. "Except old Davenant here, apparently."
"On behalf of every man in London," Vaughn said, "I thank you, Davenant, for pulling out of the race. Without your irresistible charm and diabolical good looks, the rest of us may, for once, stand a chance."
"Have a care, gentlemen," Max said, feeling thoroughly uneasy at the direction the conversation was taking. "I do not believe Miss Lacey is quite as up to snuff as you may think. Fanny assures me she has led a quiet life in the country until now."
"And the nut never falls too far from the tree, does it?" Vaughn said. "With Lady Parkhurst as her aunt, and apparently her 'chaperone' as well, it is only to be expected if the girl's a high flyer."
Max flinched at his friend's
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