Read Online More than a Mistress/No Man's Mistress by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page B

already used up this month’s supply of seductive arts on Lady Oliver.”
    â€œJane, Jane,” he said gently. “That sounded remarkably like spite. Go and find Quincy and fetch the morning’s post.
Please,
” he added as she moved toward the door.
    She turned her head to smile at him.
    â€œAh,” he said.

5
    NGELINE CAME AGAIN IN THE LATE MORNING , escorted this time by Heyward, who had accompanied her in order to inquire civilly after his brother-in-law’s health. Ferdinand came before they left, but more with the purpose of talking about himself than out of any great concern for his brother’s recovery. He had become embroiled in a challenge to race his curricle to Brighton against Lord Berriwether, whose skill with the ribbons was rivaled by no one except Jocelyn himself.
    â€œYou will lose, Ferdinand,” Heyward said bluntly.
    â€œYou will break your neck, Ferdie,” Angeline said, “and my nerves will never recover so soon after this business with Tresham. But how dashing you will look tearing along the road as fast as the wind. Are you going to order a new coat for the occasion?”
    â€œThe secret is to give your horses their heads whenever you have a straight stretch of road,” Jocelyn said, “but not to get too excited in a pinch and not to take unnecessary risks on sharp bends as if you were some circus performer. For both of which vices you are famous, Ferdinand. You had better win, though, now you are committed. Never make a boast or a challenge you are incapable of backing up with action. Not especially if you are a Dudley. I daresay you
were
boasting.”
    â€œI thought perhaps I might borrow your new curricle, Tresham,” his brother said carelessly.
    â€œNo,” Jocelyn said. “Absolutely not. I am surprised you would waste breath even asking unless you think a hole in my leg has made me soft in the brain.”
    â€œYou are my brother,” Ferdinand pointed out.
    â€œA brother with a working brain and a fair share of common sense,” Jocelyn told him. “The wheels on your own curricle were round enough when last I saw them. It is the driver rather than the vehicle that wins or loses a race, Ferdinand. When is it to be?”
    â€œTwo weeks,” his brother said.
    Damn! He would not be able to watch any part of it, then, Jocelyn thought. Not if he was obedient to the commands of that damned quack, Raikes, anyway. But in two weeks’ time, if he was still confined to a sofa, his sanity might well be at stake.
    Jane Ingleby, standing quietly some distance away, had read his mind, Jocelyn would swear. A single glance at her showed her with her lips compressed in a thin line. What did she plan to do? Tie him down until every last day of the three weeks had passed?
    He had refused her request to be excused when his family members arrived. He refused it again later when more visitors were announced while she was taking his letters one at a time from his hand as he perused them and dividing them into three piles according to his instructions—invitations to be refused, invitations to be accepted, and letters whose replies would necessitate some dictation to his secretary. Most of the invitations, except for those to events some time in the future, of course, had to be refused.
    â€œI will leave you, your grace,” she said, getting to her feet after Hawkins, who seemed far more in control ofhis own domain in the front hall today, had come to announce the arrival of several of his friends.
    â€œYou will not,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “You will remain here.”
    â€œPlease, your grace,” she said. “I can serve no function here while you have company.”
    She looked, he thought, almost frightened. Did she expect that he and his friends were going to indulge in a collective orgy with her? He would probably have dismissed her himself, he supposed, if she had not announced that she