Read Online Miss Richardson Comes Of Age (Zebra Regency Romance) by Wilma Counts - Free Book Online
Authors: Wilma Counts
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holidays.” Her heart went out to all three Wainwright men, but especially to the man struggling so to overcome adversity.
“Strangely enough, I did not. Both of them were fighting so hard. And Thorne at least finally won his battle. Took him a year and more to do so. And by then, he was the earl.”
“I see why you admire him so,” she said.
“And do you see why that Bennet person’s portrait of him is so unfair?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Yes. I think so.”
Thorne turned his mount around and tried to erase from his mind the image of honey-brown-blond curls and intelligent brown eyes. Well, she was cooperating. That was all he required of Miss Richardson. He still suspected she knew more of this Bennet and her—or his!—writings than she let on. But Thorne Wainwright was a patient man.
Now that he had become somewhat better acquainted with her, he admitted to very mixed feelings. So, she was not a fortune hunter out to trap an innocent youth. But what was her game? She was not in the first bloom of youth—not if this was her third Season. Why had she spurned Luke’s offer? She had turned down Beelson, too, he had learned—and Beelson had a title to offer. Well, rejecting a titled nobleman might be unusual, but rejecting a man like Beelson was simply a sign of good sense.
Connection with the Rolsbury title might be considered a tremendous coup in many quarters. Moreover, she and Luke seemed—at the moment at least—to get on well enough. There was still the fact that Luke was far too immature to marry. The boy deserved a chance to grow into his manhood—not just be thrust into it by responsibility for a wife and children.
Oh, you want him to gain maturity? some inner voice of cynicism asked. Then find a war to which you can dispatch him. Nothing like seeing your companions chopped to pieces to produce instant adulthood.
Another voice, equally cynical, broke in. Experiencing a little self-pity, are we, Rolsbury? You chose your life. Perhaps Luke deserves the same privilege of choice.
He does not need to be hurt by a woman, though. Thorne distinctly—and painfully—recalled another young Wainwright suffering just such hurt. Lady Diana Santee had been the reigning debutante of the Season before Thorne went off to the Peninsula. She had reveled in the attentions of every eligible male of the ton. Thorne had been ecstatic when she seemed to single him out to receive her favor. But he had been plunged into the depths of despair to learn that she had used his suit to bring the Marquis of Everdon up to scratch.
There had, of course, been other women from time to time—most particularly a certain Spanish señorita during the long siege of San Sebastian, and a Belgian woman during the occupation leading up to Waterloo. Only lately had he extricated himself from the cloying tentacles of a sometime mistress—a widow in another town in the midlands. He had vowed hereafter to deal only with “professionals.”
Every man knew woman problems were simply a part of growing up. So—where did he come off, trying to keep Luke insulated from such?
Lifetime habits were hard to ignore, though. And all his life Thorne had protected Luke and their sister Catherine. He had been hardly more than a boy himself—Luke’s age now, in fact—when he had rescued his schoolgirl sister from an unscrupulous fortune hunter. No wonder he had leaped to conclusions about Miss Richardson.
Well, he might have been wrong about Miss Richardson being a fortune hunter, but there was something about her.... And he damned well was not wrong about that pesky novelist. As an aspiring member of Parliament, he could not openly attack Emma Bennet in London drawing rooms. Doing so would keep the talk alive and serve to inhibit his efforts as a lawmaker. However, as a sometime literary critic he might find a way to do so.
Not that he had been much of a literary critic heretofore. During his long convalescence after Waterloo, he had
“Strangely enough, I did not. Both of them were fighting so hard. And Thorne at least finally won his battle. Took him a year and more to do so. And by then, he was the earl.”
“I see why you admire him so,” she said.
“And do you see why that Bennet person’s portrait of him is so unfair?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Yes. I think so.”
Thorne turned his mount around and tried to erase from his mind the image of honey-brown-blond curls and intelligent brown eyes. Well, she was cooperating. That was all he required of Miss Richardson. He still suspected she knew more of this Bennet and her—or his!—writings than she let on. But Thorne Wainwright was a patient man.
Now that he had become somewhat better acquainted with her, he admitted to very mixed feelings. So, she was not a fortune hunter out to trap an innocent youth. But what was her game? She was not in the first bloom of youth—not if this was her third Season. Why had she spurned Luke’s offer? She had turned down Beelson, too, he had learned—and Beelson had a title to offer. Well, rejecting a titled nobleman might be unusual, but rejecting a man like Beelson was simply a sign of good sense.
Connection with the Rolsbury title might be considered a tremendous coup in many quarters. Moreover, she and Luke seemed—at the moment at least—to get on well enough. There was still the fact that Luke was far too immature to marry. The boy deserved a chance to grow into his manhood—not just be thrust into it by responsibility for a wife and children.
Oh, you want him to gain maturity? some inner voice of cynicism asked. Then find a war to which you can dispatch him. Nothing like seeing your companions chopped to pieces to produce instant adulthood.
Another voice, equally cynical, broke in. Experiencing a little self-pity, are we, Rolsbury? You chose your life. Perhaps Luke deserves the same privilege of choice.
He does not need to be hurt by a woman, though. Thorne distinctly—and painfully—recalled another young Wainwright suffering just such hurt. Lady Diana Santee had been the reigning debutante of the Season before Thorne went off to the Peninsula. She had reveled in the attentions of every eligible male of the ton. Thorne had been ecstatic when she seemed to single him out to receive her favor. But he had been plunged into the depths of despair to learn that she had used his suit to bring the Marquis of Everdon up to scratch.
There had, of course, been other women from time to time—most particularly a certain Spanish señorita during the long siege of San Sebastian, and a Belgian woman during the occupation leading up to Waterloo. Only lately had he extricated himself from the cloying tentacles of a sometime mistress—a widow in another town in the midlands. He had vowed hereafter to deal only with “professionals.”
Every man knew woman problems were simply a part of growing up. So—where did he come off, trying to keep Luke insulated from such?
Lifetime habits were hard to ignore, though. And all his life Thorne had protected Luke and their sister Catherine. He had been hardly more than a boy himself—Luke’s age now, in fact—when he had rescued his schoolgirl sister from an unscrupulous fortune hunter. No wonder he had leaped to conclusions about Miss Richardson.
Well, he might have been wrong about Miss Richardson being a fortune hunter, but there was something about her.... And he damned well was not wrong about that pesky novelist. As an aspiring member of Parliament, he could not openly attack Emma Bennet in London drawing rooms. Doing so would keep the talk alive and serve to inhibit his efforts as a lawmaker. However, as a sometime literary critic he might find a way to do so.
Not that he had been much of a literary critic heretofore. During his long convalescence after Waterloo, he had
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