Read Online Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) by Carolyn Jewel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carolyn Jewel
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presented to society, no one will ever suspect I’ve a
brain in my head!” She waved her fork in the air.
“ I do believe you’re too clever
for your own good.” He was unable to suppress a smile, and he
actually grinned when she began to laugh.
“ Father, I know I am not all you
might have desired in a daughter, but I can scarce be anything
other than myself. You will have to be satisfied with me as I
am.”
“ Friday se’nnight there will be
guests for supper. You may attend,” he said gruffly.
“ And who is invited?” She failed
to hide her excitement at the prospect of meeting some of his
circle.
“ Lord Burke, Lord Hartforde, his
sister Lady Julia, Edward and his wife; and Mr. Mansfield Swaffing
has prevailed upon me to have Mrs. Vincent. Mrs. Vincent is the
widow of Mr. Humphrey Vincent.”
“ I shall be a model of femininity,
I promise.” She put a hand to her heart as she spoke. Mr. Swaffing,
she knew, was a member of Parliament for one of the boroughs under
her father’s control. About Lord Burke she knew little except that
his father had been the earl’s closest friend. The marquess of
Hartforde, however, was a man about whom she knew a great deal. His
name was mentioned frequently in the political papers her father
read. She knew he had held some post or other in the government
until the death of his father, when he took his seat in the House
of Lords and had proceeded to make his name known. She had found
and read several pamphlets containing the texts of some of his
speeches, and she was anxious to meet the man who could compose
such inspiring words. Lord Hartforde was a man of impassioned
beliefs who could temper his fiery rhetoric with good sense if it
was necessary. She distinctly remembered reading somewhere that
there were some who speculated Lord Hartforde might well be the
next Prime Minister.
III
Isobel had to smile when Mr. Swaffing arrived on the
heels of Mrs. Vincent. Angelica Vincent could not possibly be a day
over twenty-two, which was about twenty years fewer than her escort
could claim. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and dark
eyes, that, Isobel thought at first seemed introspective but, much
later, realized was the result of her complete disinterest in any
person not attired in breeches. She wore an exceedingly low-cut
gown of watered green silk sprigged with darker green. From the
jewels fairly dripping off her, Isobel surmised the woman’s late
husband had left her quite well off. Mr. Swaffing was a roundish
little man whose claim to good looks lay chiefly in the abundance
of his dark hair and his having found an excellent tailor. His
effusive greeting to Isobel was cut short by the arrival of Lord
Burke.
“’ Tis an honor to make your
acquaintance, Miss St. James.” Lord Burke bent over her hand. “I am
your servant.”
When he spoke, he gave the impression he was a sober
man for all that the ruffles of his shirtlace and cravat bordered,
by British standards, on the excessive. Though not a small man, he
was by no means corpulent, and his auburn hair was artfully curled
at the nape of his neck. He was almost handsome, with light brown
eyes and a ready smile. He greeted Edward and Mr. Swaffing, then
kissed Mrs. St. James’s hand before bending over Mrs. Vincent’s
hand. Edward’s wife was a gracious and still pretty woman who, it
was clear, was very fond of her husband. Isobel sat next to Mrs.
St. James, sipping from the small glass of wine the earl had
permitted her, quite happy to let Mrs. Vincent monopolize the
conversation until Lord Hartforde and his sister were announced.
The earl rose and took her arm as Lady Julia came in.
“ This enchanting young woman is
the Lady Julia Grey,” the earl said as Lady Julia reached out to
take Isobel’s hands in hers.
“ My brother,” Lady Julia said to
Lord Chessingham, “is fussing over his horses and will be here just
as soon as he can bear to tear himself away.”
“ Lady Julia, my daughter,
brain in my head!” She waved her fork in the air.
“ I do believe you’re too clever
for your own good.” He was unable to suppress a smile, and he
actually grinned when she began to laugh.
“ Father, I know I am not all you
might have desired in a daughter, but I can scarce be anything
other than myself. You will have to be satisfied with me as I
am.”
“ Friday se’nnight there will be
guests for supper. You may attend,” he said gruffly.
“ And who is invited?” She failed
to hide her excitement at the prospect of meeting some of his
circle.
“ Lord Burke, Lord Hartforde, his
sister Lady Julia, Edward and his wife; and Mr. Mansfield Swaffing
has prevailed upon me to have Mrs. Vincent. Mrs. Vincent is the
widow of Mr. Humphrey Vincent.”
“ I shall be a model of femininity,
I promise.” She put a hand to her heart as she spoke. Mr. Swaffing,
she knew, was a member of Parliament for one of the boroughs under
her father’s control. About Lord Burke she knew little except that
his father had been the earl’s closest friend. The marquess of
Hartforde, however, was a man about whom she knew a great deal. His
name was mentioned frequently in the political papers her father
read. She knew he had held some post or other in the government
until the death of his father, when he took his seat in the House
of Lords and had proceeded to make his name known. She had found
and read several pamphlets containing the texts of some of his
speeches, and she was anxious to meet the man who could compose
such inspiring words. Lord Hartforde was a man of impassioned
beliefs who could temper his fiery rhetoric with good sense if it
was necessary. She distinctly remembered reading somewhere that
there were some who speculated Lord Hartforde might well be the
next Prime Minister.
III
Isobel had to smile when Mr. Swaffing arrived on the
heels of Mrs. Vincent. Angelica Vincent could not possibly be a day
over twenty-two, which was about twenty years fewer than her escort
could claim. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and dark
eyes, that, Isobel thought at first seemed introspective but, much
later, realized was the result of her complete disinterest in any
person not attired in breeches. She wore an exceedingly low-cut
gown of watered green silk sprigged with darker green. From the
jewels fairly dripping off her, Isobel surmised the woman’s late
husband had left her quite well off. Mr. Swaffing was a roundish
little man whose claim to good looks lay chiefly in the abundance
of his dark hair and his having found an excellent tailor. His
effusive greeting to Isobel was cut short by the arrival of Lord
Burke.
“’ Tis an honor to make your
acquaintance, Miss St. James.” Lord Burke bent over her hand. “I am
your servant.”
When he spoke, he gave the impression he was a sober
man for all that the ruffles of his shirtlace and cravat bordered,
by British standards, on the excessive. Though not a small man, he
was by no means corpulent, and his auburn hair was artfully curled
at the nape of his neck. He was almost handsome, with light brown
eyes and a ready smile. He greeted Edward and Mr. Swaffing, then
kissed Mrs. St. James’s hand before bending over Mrs. Vincent’s
hand. Edward’s wife was a gracious and still pretty woman who, it
was clear, was very fond of her husband. Isobel sat next to Mrs.
St. James, sipping from the small glass of wine the earl had
permitted her, quite happy to let Mrs. Vincent monopolize the
conversation until Lord Hartforde and his sister were announced.
The earl rose and took her arm as Lady Julia came in.
“ This enchanting young woman is
the Lady Julia Grey,” the earl said as Lady Julia reached out to
take Isobel’s hands in hers.
“ My brother,” Lady Julia said to
Lord Chessingham, “is fussing over his horses and will be here just
as soon as he can bear to tear himself away.”
“ Lady Julia, my daughter,
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