Read Online Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) by Michelle McMaster - Free Book Online

flew up just out of Beckett’s reach, then landed on his head again. They repeated this process until Beckett finally gave up, and stood with his hands on his hips.
    “Caesar, I believe you have ruined my hair,” Beckett said.
    Light feminine laughter trickled down the staircase.
    Beckett looked up to see Isobel standing at the top, covering her mouth with a dainty gloved hand as she giggled.
    “You think this quite funny, do you?” Beckett asked.
    Isobel appeared to be swallowing her smirk as she descended the stairs and stopped at the bottom.
    “Hmph.” Beckett reached up and grabbed the bird before he could flap his gray wings and escape. “Caesar, I’m afraid that your career as a hat is over. Back in your cage, now.”
    “ Ahhkk! Bye-bye. Bye-bye ,” the bird squawked as his owner placed him back in his big brass cage.
    Beckett returned to Isobel’s side. For some reason, she kept putting her hand to her lips and looking at the floor, or the door, or anywhere but directly at him.
    “What is it?” he inquired.
    “Your hair, I’m afraid.”
    “Damnation,” He said, crossing over to the glass in the hallway. Beckett laughed himself when he saw the strange coiffure the bird had wrought upon his head. His hair stuck out in every direction. He turned back to Isobel, and with as serious a face as he could muster, said, “You mean you don’t like it? But I hear it’s quite the dash.”
    Isobel seemed unconvinced.
    Beckett ran his hands through his hair and fluffed it forward, then checked in the mirror. It would have to do.
    It seemed that only then did he notice her gown, a stunning creation of amber silk with a daring neckline. Well, he supposed it was respectable enough for a married woman. But the thought niggled at him that she was his married woman, and perhaps he didn’t want all of society looking at her breasts all night long. He offered his arm and felt her little hand tuck into the crook of his elbow. “You know what to do?” he asked.
    “Yes,” Isobel replied. “If anyone says anything out of turn, I am to bat my eyelashes, laugh as charmingly as possible, and perhaps sigh rather whimsically.”
    “Exactly,” he said. “And if that doesn’t win them over, be sure to swoon. Most people love a good swoon.”
    “Will Miss Haversham be there?”
    Beckett nodded. “Like Napoleon, itching for battle. And you must be like Wellington. Stand your ground, and you’ll see the enemy run.”
    “Will there be time to dance, in between dodging enemy volleys?” Isobel asked.
    Beckett laughed, admiring Isobel’s spirit. “I will make certain you do more dancing than dodging, my dear. This is our first ball as the Earl and Countess of Ravenwood. Let us enjoy ourselves, and in doing so, set all of London on its ear.”
    Beckett led his wife out the door and helped her into the waiting carriage. As they pulled away and drove down the street, he hoped for Isobel’s sake that this evening would not be the disaster Cordelia would surely try to make it.
    The carriage rolled into the long torchlit drive of Whitcomb Park and stopped as they waited for a space. Carriages lined the circular drive from end to end. In the flickering light, a steady flow of guests promenaded up the wide staircase and through the main doors.
    As they waited to pull up beside the steps, Isobel looked across at Beckett, who sat back leisurely as if this were a simple soiree they were attending. The flames from the torches lit the inside of the cab, flickering over his face in the dark.
    Beckett was an incredibly handsome man. The thought that he was her husband and would be squiring her around the ball gave her a heated thrill.
    The door opened and a footman appeared, reaching his hand in to help Isobel out of the carriage. She gathered up her skirts and put her hand in the footman’s as he helped her to the ground. Beckett quickly followed, offering his arm to Isobel.
    “We must keep watch for Alfred,” Beckett said.