Read Online Miss Truelove Beckons (Classic Regency Romances Book 12) by Donna Lea Simpson - Free Book Online Page A

hard to restrain his growing irritation.
    True, with no such need to appear the lackwit, triumphantly claimed a win at the end of the game, despite the distinctly inferior play of Lord Conroy, her partner.
    “Very well, you two win. You had a sharp partner, Conroy,” Drake said with a nod to True as he threw down his cards in defeat. “I will be sure who my partner shall be next time!” He glanced over at Arabella after he said that, and by the look on his face True could tell he had just realized the insult that implied to his partner.
    Arabella had felt it, too. Her eyes widened, and she pouted prettily. “That was not chivalrous, sir.”
    “I say, Drake, that was too bad of you,” Conroy chimed in. He stood and bowed before Arabella. “Miss Swinley, I will be your partner next time we play at whist. If you like, I can give you lessons when we return to Lea Park.”
    True groaned inwardly; Conroy, teach her to play? Arabella was a very clever girl, and could likely best Conroy in any game he chose to play. Her “game” was much deeper, and it was yet to be seen whether she would win with the stratagem she had laid out for herself. True did not think Lord Drake was one to be impressed by frailty or stupidity. He valued honesty, too, above all else. What would happen if he did fall in love with Arabella, marry her, and then find the woman he had been courting was not the woman he wed?
    “I thank you, my lord,” Arabella said, prettily, to Conroy. “That was the speech of a true gentleman.”
    “My apologies, Miss Swinley,” Drake said, his cheeks a deep red. “I meant no slight to your ability, I—”
    “It is time we went up, True,” Arabella said, rising gracefully. “I am fatigued.”
    Willingly, True rose. They ascended to their room, where Arabella dropped her façade of elegant simpleton.
    “What is wrong with that man,” she fumed, regarding herself in the faded mirror and toying with one long ringlet. Though she had not been able to change her gown for the evening, she still looked elegant in a green carriage dress that brought out the color of her eyes. “I have never had a gentleman sneer at my intelligence in such an ungallant manner!”
    “He did not mean it, Bella,” True said, holding up the two nightrails Mrs. Lincoln, the landlady, had provided for them. She picked the shorter of the two and laid out the longer one for her cousin. “He is a competitive gentleman, and he did not think before he spoke. He likes to win and expects anyone with whom he is partnered to make the same effort.”
    “But he is not supposed to like to win over being partnered with me. I didn’t act like a simpering fool for nothing! He should have been charmed and felt protective toward me, as Lord Conroy did. That is how a true gentleman behaves.” She turned from the mirror. “And I suppose I have to wear that fright of a nightrail, that has been worn by who knows who? And we have to take care of ourselves?”
    “Yes, we have to look after ourselves,” True said, letting down her hair and shaking it back over her shoulders. “It won’t hurt us, you know. I am quite used to it, not having a maid at home.” She picked up the brush from the vanity table.
    “That is you ,” Arabella returned scornfully. “A real lady does not even brush her own hair!” She swished her fingers around in the bowl of water provided for their ablutions. “And this is not hot! It has not been touched, I swan, since before we went down to dine!”
    True, as fond of her cousin as she was, gritted her teeth as she brushed out her long, soft hair, untangling with her fingers the knots created by the day’s breeziness and a long carriage ride. Bella was at her worst when she was forced to put up with less than ideal conditions. True knew what was coming, and she also knew she was helpless to prevent it, cursed by her own liking for harmony. “Mrs. Lincoln only has one girl to take care of guests, her married daughter, and she