Read Online My Lady, My Lord by Katharine Ashe - Free Book Online Page A

deepened.
    ~o0o~
    “Lady Corinna, you are beautiful this evening.”
    Ian shifted his gaze to the man offering him a glass of ratafia. He accepted the drink, but by God he refused to actually consume it.
    “Thank you, my lord.” His tongue felt sticky saying the words, but they must have sounded well enough. Viscount Fitzhugh didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He looked pleased as Punch, as though he had braved the wilds of Africa for the beverage and could now rest easy upon this accomplishment for the remainder of his days.
    Ian didn’t care for Giles Fitzhugh. He barely knew him, but what he did know—that he spent more time with the House of Lords than with everyone else combined—didn’t impress him. That Fitzhugh seemed to be courting Corinna only reinforced Ian’s low opinion.
    Lord Mowbray seemed happy with the viscount’s attentions, however, welcoming Fitzhugh’s visit to their box during the entr’acte. Of course, Mowbray couldn’t afford to be particular with a daughter so long in the tooth.
    Ian glanced about the corridor. At least his friends weren’t in the theater tonight. Stoopie was still stuck on the duplicitous Madam Kozlov, and to Ian’s knowledge Jag hadn’t entered a green room since Mrs. Rebecca Clark came to London.
    “Will you attend Lady March’s tea tomorrow?” the viscount asked.
    “Oh, I daresay.” Ian waved his hand in an unconcerned gesture.
    “I know you’ve been especially looking forward to it, and I’m eager to hear what you have to say on the labor bill coming forward in the House after Christmas.” Fitzhugh smiled as though he meant every word he’d said. Then again, he was a politician.
    “I’m sure I’ll do my best.” Her best to bore half the people around her to tears, and insult the other half.
    With another smile, Fitzhugh took Ian’s hand.
    “You are a rare and fascinating woman, Corinna Mowbray. Will you attend the ball at Lord and Lady Patterson’s home on Saturday?”
    Ian choked back a gag and tugged his hand away. “Yes.”
    “Will you save me a dance? The supper dance, preferably, but I fear that will already be bespoken.”
    Not likely. “I would be honored, my lord.” The chimes announcing the third act saved Ian from retching.
    The final act passed like the continuation of a bad dream. Lord Mowbray invited Fitzhugh to join them in their box, and the fellow sat so close Ian couldn’t relax sufficiently to enjoy the soprano’s quivering bosom.
    When it was over, Fitzhugh saw them to their carriage. Ian couldn’t fault the fellow; he didn’t go so far as to make calf’s eyes or kiss Ian’s hand. But he held it a moment too long in parting, driving Ian’s irritation deeper. During the ride home, Mowbray didn’t say a word about it, but talked of the performances.
    When they turned onto the street, the lights were out at his house. He briefly entertained the notion of going to speak with Corinna to learn how her day passed. But the sooner he went to sleep, the sooner this farce would be over. And in the morning, waking up in his own bed, he would laugh and tell himself it had all been a horrible dream.
    He allowed the maid to unbutton him from the gown and corset then he dismissed her. Without removing the shift or glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he climbed onto the mattress and lay for many minutes without stirring. A scent of fresh honeysuckle clung to the bedclothes.
    He closed his eyes and tried to do the same to his other senses as well.
    Tomorrow, all would be put to rights.
    ~o0o~
    Ian awoke to morning sunlight spilling through partially drawn draperies, illuminating pink and white satin pillows and gold-striped silk, and wondered which of his many sins had finally caught up with him.

Chapter Eight
    C ORINNA REFUSED TO CRY . The dratted thing would not go away, but she could not let it best her. As a person of reason and sense, she would conquer the beast. Man’s animal nature must perforce be sublimated to