Read Online The Mad Lord's Daughter by Jane Goodger - Free Book Online
Authors: Jane Goodger
Ads: Link
me already?”
His father gave John a hard look before leaning toward his niece and talking in quieter tones. “John doesn’t believe in love. He is having fun with you.”
“Yes, Uncle, I’m aware of his views. And I was led to believe that you shared them.”
“I’m afraid that is true. While I don’t want to squash your girlish dreams, I cannot say I’ve ever witnessed true love, whatever that is.”
John noticed Miss Stanhope stiffen slightly.
“If people could eliminate all notions of love, the world would be a much calmer—and dare I say happier—place,” she said. “I firmly believe marriages should be handled with diplomacy and tact, rather than allowed to descend into romantic balderdash.”
Melissa moved her eyes from one person to the next. “Am I the only one, then, who believes in love? Is this a commonly held belief?”
Miss Stanhope’s rigid stance softened. “No, it is not. And as in anything, there are exceptions to the rule. I do hope that my niece has found everlasting love, for example. Indeed, I’m not certain I’ve ever witnessed a love such as theirs in my entire life. So, I suppose it can happen. I simply don’t believe in overlooking perfectly good prospects because of a lack of love. Many men would make very fine husbands if not for all the silly twits who overlook them in a misconceived search for love. And I am not saying you are a silly twit.”
Melissa laughed. “I quite agree with you. But I also believe that one can fall in love even in an arranged marriage.”
“I am quite gratified to hear you say so,” Miss Stanhope said.
“You have never been in love, then?”
“Of course not,” she said as if the idea was perfectly absurd. John’s father, who had been ignoring the conversation, turned his head slightly.
“But you are so lovely,” Melissa said, and Miss Stanhope’s cheeks turned a bright pink.
“Thank you, my dear,” Miss Stanhope said stiffly. “Unfortunately, the men who were looking for wives during my seasons did not quite agree with you.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that men are less intelligent than women,” Melissa said in a stage whisper that clearly John and his father were meant to hear. He laughed at her audacity. No, Melissa was not a shy girl. She would do very well when she got over her fear of people.
Just then the lights flickered, and those not already seated hastily made their way to their seats. The four of them sat side by side, with John to Melissa’s right, Miss Stanhope seated next to her, and her uncle on the far left. The lights had been dimmed only a moment when the orchestra began playing. And from then on, the girl was in rapture, her eyes never straying from the stage, from the actors and singers. At one point, John thought he detected a tear coursing down her face, something rather confusing as the opera wasn’t at all tragic—at least not yet. By the intermission, John was about to fall asleep, and so was surprised when Melissa turned, bubbling over with enthusiasm for the opera.
“Oh, it was lovely, wasn’t it? Are all operas so wonderful? I could hear every note, every word, as if they were sitting right in front of me. And the costumes! How do they move about so freely wearing such ornate clothing?”
John laughed, her joy infectious. “Such enthusiasm for mediocrity is really not the thing,” he drawled, but he couldn’t continue his farce and so ended up laughing again when he saw the look of horror on her face. It was obvious to him she was to become an opera lover. God help the poor man who married her. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of attending more than one opera a year.
“Lord Willington, would you be so kind as to get your cousin a refreshment. I would very much like to say hello to my niece. I haven’t seen her in weeks, you see.”
“Of course,” John said, standing and giving Miss Stanhope a bow. “Would you like some punch, perhaps, Melissa? I think it will be a bit of
His father gave John a hard look before leaning toward his niece and talking in quieter tones. “John doesn’t believe in love. He is having fun with you.”
“Yes, Uncle, I’m aware of his views. And I was led to believe that you shared them.”
“I’m afraid that is true. While I don’t want to squash your girlish dreams, I cannot say I’ve ever witnessed true love, whatever that is.”
John noticed Miss Stanhope stiffen slightly.
“If people could eliminate all notions of love, the world would be a much calmer—and dare I say happier—place,” she said. “I firmly believe marriages should be handled with diplomacy and tact, rather than allowed to descend into romantic balderdash.”
Melissa moved her eyes from one person to the next. “Am I the only one, then, who believes in love? Is this a commonly held belief?”
Miss Stanhope’s rigid stance softened. “No, it is not. And as in anything, there are exceptions to the rule. I do hope that my niece has found everlasting love, for example. Indeed, I’m not certain I’ve ever witnessed a love such as theirs in my entire life. So, I suppose it can happen. I simply don’t believe in overlooking perfectly good prospects because of a lack of love. Many men would make very fine husbands if not for all the silly twits who overlook them in a misconceived search for love. And I am not saying you are a silly twit.”
Melissa laughed. “I quite agree with you. But I also believe that one can fall in love even in an arranged marriage.”
“I am quite gratified to hear you say so,” Miss Stanhope said.
“You have never been in love, then?”
“Of course not,” she said as if the idea was perfectly absurd. John’s father, who had been ignoring the conversation, turned his head slightly.
“But you are so lovely,” Melissa said, and Miss Stanhope’s cheeks turned a bright pink.
“Thank you, my dear,” Miss Stanhope said stiffly. “Unfortunately, the men who were looking for wives during my seasons did not quite agree with you.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that men are less intelligent than women,” Melissa said in a stage whisper that clearly John and his father were meant to hear. He laughed at her audacity. No, Melissa was not a shy girl. She would do very well when she got over her fear of people.
Just then the lights flickered, and those not already seated hastily made their way to their seats. The four of them sat side by side, with John to Melissa’s right, Miss Stanhope seated next to her, and her uncle on the far left. The lights had been dimmed only a moment when the orchestra began playing. And from then on, the girl was in rapture, her eyes never straying from the stage, from the actors and singers. At one point, John thought he detected a tear coursing down her face, something rather confusing as the opera wasn’t at all tragic—at least not yet. By the intermission, John was about to fall asleep, and so was surprised when Melissa turned, bubbling over with enthusiasm for the opera.
“Oh, it was lovely, wasn’t it? Are all operas so wonderful? I could hear every note, every word, as if they were sitting right in front of me. And the costumes! How do they move about so freely wearing such ornate clothing?”
John laughed, her joy infectious. “Such enthusiasm for mediocrity is really not the thing,” he drawled, but he couldn’t continue his farce and so ended up laughing again when he saw the look of horror on her face. It was obvious to him she was to become an opera lover. God help the poor man who married her. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of attending more than one opera a year.
“Lord Willington, would you be so kind as to get your cousin a refreshment. I would very much like to say hello to my niece. I haven’t seen her in weeks, you see.”
“Of course,” John said, standing and giving Miss Stanhope a bow. “Would you like some punch, perhaps, Melissa? I think it will be a bit of
Similar Books
