Read Online The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) by Jerrica Knight-Catania, Catherine Gayle, Ava Stone, Jane Charles - Free Book Online
Tags: Historical Romance, Anthology, Regency Romance, regency anthology, catherine gayle, jerrica knightcatania, jane charles, ava stone
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haunches before her. “Don’t be sorry, Pippa. Just listen to me. You know I only have your best interests at heart.”
And she did know that. Pippa threw her arms around Berks’s neck and hugged him. “I will listen to you, I promise.”
He squeezed her back. “That’s all I ask for.” Then he released her and rose back to his full height. “All right. It’s been a long night. Off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Pippa agreed with a nod, scrambled back to her feet and quickly departed her brother’s study.
Davis was waiting for her in the hallway with a large parcel. “This arrived for you not long ago, my lady. A servant in Stalbridge livery.”
“ Georgie?” Pippa took the parcel from the butler and couldn’t help the grin that lit her face. A book, a large one at that. Dear Georgie, so true to her word. “Thank you, Davis. Thank you very much.” Then she rushed up the steps towards her chambers.
Once alone, she dropped on to her bed, tucked her toes up under her gown and tore into the paper covering what she was certain was Georgie’s volume of Debrett’s. A note fluttered to the floor.
My dearest Pippa,
I did search the second volume, on the off chance I simply had forgotten the Colebrooke viscountcy, but it was not there. I was correct. Colebrooke is obviously a courtesy title of some sort. Therefore, you will need to search through the dukes, marquesses, and earls to find your Lord Colebrooke’s father or grandfather. I’m wishing you the best of luck!
Yours always,
Georgie
She felt a tiny bit like a spy as she opened the book’s cover. She supposed she could have asked Jason who his father was, or his grandfather for that matter, but he never gave her much time to think about anything.
The memory of his kiss, of his lips on her shoulder, his hands on her waist washed over her anew. “All right, my lord, now to find you.”
The volume of Debrett’s, still resting in her lap, had struck like a viper with no warning. The beeswax candle on Pippa’s bedside table flickered wildly with the last sputterings of life, as it had burned through most of the night while she’d flipped page after page looking for Jason. But, now, she barely noticed the light as numbness settled in her belly and spread like poison across her body.
She’d set out to find him. But now that she had, Pippa was fairly certain she was going to cry and never be able to stop.
JASON WILLIAM ALEXANDER YORK, Earl of St. Austell, Viscount Colebrooke, and Baron York of St. Austell; succeeded his father Matthew, the late earl, Mar. 15, 1792; born Nov. 20, 1785.
He’d toyed with her. Made sport of her. Made a fool of her.
A tear dropped onto the page just as the candle went out, leaving her in darkness. She closed the book, pushed it from her lap, and fell against her pillows. More tears trickled down her cheeks and onto her neck before trailing all the way to her counterpane.
Memory after memory replayed in her mind. Meeting him in Hyde Park. His offer to dispense with himself ! Viscount Colebrooke’s newly-made calling card. Each kiss, each caress. That blasted bet in that blasted book in that blasted gentleman’s club.
Oh he must have laughed at her expense. He must have thought her the biggest fool ever born. And perhaps she was. Perhaps she had been. But not anymore. And not ever again. If only she could wipe the memory of his kiss from her mind…
She wasn’t certain how long she lay in her bed, but eventually sunlight peaked through the windows, then bathed her chamber fully in warmness. But Pippa didn’t feel it. She could toss herself into a blazing grate and she doubted the coldness of her bones, of her soul, would ever warm again.
A knock sounded at her door, but Pippa ignored it. She wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone.
“ Pip,” Harry called through the door. “Davis says you haven’t rung for Mary this morning. Don’t you need her to get you ready for services?”
Services?
And she did know that. Pippa threw her arms around Berks’s neck and hugged him. “I will listen to you, I promise.”
He squeezed her back. “That’s all I ask for.” Then he released her and rose back to his full height. “All right. It’s been a long night. Off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Pippa agreed with a nod, scrambled back to her feet and quickly departed her brother’s study.
Davis was waiting for her in the hallway with a large parcel. “This arrived for you not long ago, my lady. A servant in Stalbridge livery.”
“ Georgie?” Pippa took the parcel from the butler and couldn’t help the grin that lit her face. A book, a large one at that. Dear Georgie, so true to her word. “Thank you, Davis. Thank you very much.” Then she rushed up the steps towards her chambers.
Once alone, she dropped on to her bed, tucked her toes up under her gown and tore into the paper covering what she was certain was Georgie’s volume of Debrett’s. A note fluttered to the floor.
My dearest Pippa,
I did search the second volume, on the off chance I simply had forgotten the Colebrooke viscountcy, but it was not there. I was correct. Colebrooke is obviously a courtesy title of some sort. Therefore, you will need to search through the dukes, marquesses, and earls to find your Lord Colebrooke’s father or grandfather. I’m wishing you the best of luck!
Yours always,
Georgie
She felt a tiny bit like a spy as she opened the book’s cover. She supposed she could have asked Jason who his father was, or his grandfather for that matter, but he never gave her much time to think about anything.
The memory of his kiss, of his lips on her shoulder, his hands on her waist washed over her anew. “All right, my lord, now to find you.”
The volume of Debrett’s, still resting in her lap, had struck like a viper with no warning. The beeswax candle on Pippa’s bedside table flickered wildly with the last sputterings of life, as it had burned through most of the night while she’d flipped page after page looking for Jason. But, now, she barely noticed the light as numbness settled in her belly and spread like poison across her body.
She’d set out to find him. But now that she had, Pippa was fairly certain she was going to cry and never be able to stop.
JASON WILLIAM ALEXANDER YORK, Earl of St. Austell, Viscount Colebrooke, and Baron York of St. Austell; succeeded his father Matthew, the late earl, Mar. 15, 1792; born Nov. 20, 1785.
He’d toyed with her. Made sport of her. Made a fool of her.
A tear dropped onto the page just as the candle went out, leaving her in darkness. She closed the book, pushed it from her lap, and fell against her pillows. More tears trickled down her cheeks and onto her neck before trailing all the way to her counterpane.
Memory after memory replayed in her mind. Meeting him in Hyde Park. His offer to dispense with himself ! Viscount Colebrooke’s newly-made calling card. Each kiss, each caress. That blasted bet in that blasted book in that blasted gentleman’s club.
Oh he must have laughed at her expense. He must have thought her the biggest fool ever born. And perhaps she was. Perhaps she had been. But not anymore. And not ever again. If only she could wipe the memory of his kiss from her mind…
She wasn’t certain how long she lay in her bed, but eventually sunlight peaked through the windows, then bathed her chamber fully in warmness. But Pippa didn’t feel it. She could toss herself into a blazing grate and she doubted the coldness of her bones, of her soul, would ever warm again.
A knock sounded at her door, but Pippa ignored it. She wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone.
“ Pip,” Harry called through the door. “Davis says you haven’t rung for Mary this morning. Don’t you need her to get you ready for services?”
Services?
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