Read Online Miss Pymbroke's Rules by Rosemary Stevens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rosemary Stevens
Tags: Regency Romance
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eyes filled with pity. “My lord, you must rise above such condemnation. You have learned your lesson, I think, and will behave more admirably in the future. I suggest, as a beginning, you send those two unfortunate French girls to a convent.”
Chapter Four
Laughter formed in the back of Lord Carrisworth’s throat at Miss Pymbroke’s assertions, but he suppressed it while gazing down at her earnest face. A quiet voice inside him said if she knew the truth, that it was she who was at the center of Society’s whispers, then hurt would be reflected in her brown eyes which, for the first time, were looking upon him with tenderness.
The marquess decided he quite liked being the recipient of Miss Pymbroke’s compassion, and so he reached out a gloved hand and gave her cheek a careless pat. “Thank you. But I do not care one jot what people say.”
Behind them, Louisa and Sir Ramsey entered the box. Lord Carrisworth saw everyone seated comfortably before sitting down himself. Louisa and Sir Ramsey glanced around the theater at the interested faces of the various notables watching their box and began a whispered conversation.
The marquess was happy to see the widow occupied. It left him free to converse with Miss Pymbroke. “I hope you will enjoy the play. It is Romeo and Juliet.”
Diverted, Verity turned her gaze to the stage. “I must admit, it’s one of my favorites.”
“Ah, you are a romantic, then. Do not deny it,” he added swiftly. “It may interest you to know it was here in 1779 that Prinny first saw Mary Robinson. And, in 1791, his brother, the Duke of Clarence, met Mrs. Jordan.” He smiled seductively, leaned close to her, and murmured, “Many great love affairs have begun in this theater. Perhaps another will commence tonight.”
Verity folded her gloved hands in her lap. “You are speaking of illicit relationships, my lord, ones not sanctioned by the laws or the church. I have no desire to converse about such immoral conduct.”
Deliberately misunderstanding her, Lord Carrisworth said smoothly, “You have no desires? When I look into the velvet depths of your eyes, Miss Pymbroke, I find that hard to believe.”
Those same eyes smoldered dangerously when Verity said, “Sir, you are impertinent. Our connection exists only because you are leasing my home. I would thank you to remember I am here this evening because of a promise you extracted from me, and ask you to cease these practiced compliments.”
The marquess replied to this request with mocking gallantry. “I shall obey you in this, as in everything, my landlady.”
As the play began, he sat back to enjoy Miss Pymbroke’s reaction.
In the beginning, her face was set, and he imagined her mind working on the problem of reforming the actresses.
But slowly, as the story progressed, he could tell she had been drawn into the plight of the characters. She leaned forward in her chair in rapt attention, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. During the tragic ending, when Juliet thrust the knife into herself, tears trembled on Miss Pymbroke’s long eyelashes before falling to travel down her ivory cheeks. She reached into her reticule and produced a dainty handkerchief.
Fascinated by her refreshingly genuine response the marquess never took his gaze from her.
They did not stay for the afterpiece, Lord Carrisworth judging it best to leave while Miss Pymbroke was still plainly moved by the performance. As they made their way toward the waiting coach, she appeared remote and distracted.
The marquess handed Miss Pymbroke into the vehicle, watching Sir Ramsey taking a prolonged leave from Mrs. Barrington. The baronet could be seen raising the widow’s hand to his lips and kissing it for what seemed an overlong time.
Carrisworth noted the look of disapproval on Miss Pymbroke’s lovely face. Deciding the pair had gone on long enough, he called to his friend. “Randy, will I see you at White’s later on?”
Sir Ramsey broke away
Chapter Four
Laughter formed in the back of Lord Carrisworth’s throat at Miss Pymbroke’s assertions, but he suppressed it while gazing down at her earnest face. A quiet voice inside him said if she knew the truth, that it was she who was at the center of Society’s whispers, then hurt would be reflected in her brown eyes which, for the first time, were looking upon him with tenderness.
The marquess decided he quite liked being the recipient of Miss Pymbroke’s compassion, and so he reached out a gloved hand and gave her cheek a careless pat. “Thank you. But I do not care one jot what people say.”
Behind them, Louisa and Sir Ramsey entered the box. Lord Carrisworth saw everyone seated comfortably before sitting down himself. Louisa and Sir Ramsey glanced around the theater at the interested faces of the various notables watching their box and began a whispered conversation.
The marquess was happy to see the widow occupied. It left him free to converse with Miss Pymbroke. “I hope you will enjoy the play. It is Romeo and Juliet.”
Diverted, Verity turned her gaze to the stage. “I must admit, it’s one of my favorites.”
“Ah, you are a romantic, then. Do not deny it,” he added swiftly. “It may interest you to know it was here in 1779 that Prinny first saw Mary Robinson. And, in 1791, his brother, the Duke of Clarence, met Mrs. Jordan.” He smiled seductively, leaned close to her, and murmured, “Many great love affairs have begun in this theater. Perhaps another will commence tonight.”
Verity folded her gloved hands in her lap. “You are speaking of illicit relationships, my lord, ones not sanctioned by the laws or the church. I have no desire to converse about such immoral conduct.”
Deliberately misunderstanding her, Lord Carrisworth said smoothly, “You have no desires? When I look into the velvet depths of your eyes, Miss Pymbroke, I find that hard to believe.”
Those same eyes smoldered dangerously when Verity said, “Sir, you are impertinent. Our connection exists only because you are leasing my home. I would thank you to remember I am here this evening because of a promise you extracted from me, and ask you to cease these practiced compliments.”
The marquess replied to this request with mocking gallantry. “I shall obey you in this, as in everything, my landlady.”
As the play began, he sat back to enjoy Miss Pymbroke’s reaction.
In the beginning, her face was set, and he imagined her mind working on the problem of reforming the actresses.
But slowly, as the story progressed, he could tell she had been drawn into the plight of the characters. She leaned forward in her chair in rapt attention, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. During the tragic ending, when Juliet thrust the knife into herself, tears trembled on Miss Pymbroke’s long eyelashes before falling to travel down her ivory cheeks. She reached into her reticule and produced a dainty handkerchief.
Fascinated by her refreshingly genuine response the marquess never took his gaze from her.
They did not stay for the afterpiece, Lord Carrisworth judging it best to leave while Miss Pymbroke was still plainly moved by the performance. As they made their way toward the waiting coach, she appeared remote and distracted.
The marquess handed Miss Pymbroke into the vehicle, watching Sir Ramsey taking a prolonged leave from Mrs. Barrington. The baronet could be seen raising the widow’s hand to his lips and kissing it for what seemed an overlong time.
Carrisworth noted the look of disapproval on Miss Pymbroke’s lovely face. Deciding the pair had gone on long enough, he called to his friend. “Randy, will I see you at White’s later on?”
Sir Ramsey broke away
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