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Authors: Nadine Miller
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We have done nothing of the sort, mother. If it’s Miss Barrington’s green gown that’s bothering you, it is not all that scandalous. Granted the neckline is a bit low for a country ball, but I rather like the way the color compliments her eyes.” Eyes which at that moment Theo could see were laughing into Richard Forsythe’s as he led her from the floor at the end of the rollicking country dance. He frowned. Odd, he’d never before realized what a handsome fellow Richard was—for a vicar.
The countess gave another derogatory sniff. “The dress is but one example of how the dreadful girl deceived us. She is not at all the diffident little creature she pretended to be.”
“Indeed she is not,” Theo readily agreed. “Personally, I find her combination of innocence and independent spirit quite fascinating. I can happily state I am not looking forward to my marriage with the same dread I felt yesterday.”
The countess’s nostrils flared with anger. “Your flippant manner does you no credit, Theo. As your mother—and the mistress of Ravenswood—I demand you show me the respect due me.”
Ravenswood. So that was what this was all about. His mother had apparently decided Meg Barrington posed a threat to her position as mistress of the historic manor house. He had wondered at her willingness to accept the squire’s shy, reclusive daughter as the future Countess of Lynley, despite her less than auspicious bloodlines. Now he understood her reasoning. A self-deprecating female such as Miss Barrington had appeared to be would be only too happy to leave control of the vast manor house in the dowager’s hands.
But as it turned out, his bride-to-be was not as timid as she’d first seemed. The vibrant young woman who had arrived at her betrothal ball in a shockingly inappropriate dress might very well demand her mother-in-law be removed to the dower house, as was customary.
He couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for his mother. What she had lacked in warmth, she had more than made up for in her dedication to Ravenswood in the four and thirty years she had been mistress of the Hampton family’s principal estate. The thought of relinquishing her position to a younger woman must be devastating to her.
On the other hand, for his own part, he found the idea of sharing Ravenswood with an enchanting little green-eyed cat much more appealing than his original plan of sharing it with a mousey frump and his demanding mother.
“Don’t worry. We’ll work something out to everyone’s satisfaction,” he said in the patient tone of voice he always used with his mother. He even halfway believed what he promised her. This evening he’d been dreading had gone so swimmingly up to now, he’d begun to think the same phenomenal luck that had seen him through many a close scrape on the Peninsula was once again his. With luck like that, how could a man go wrong?
“Now if you’ll excuse me, Mother,” he said with a conspiratorial smile he felt certain would placate her, “I believe it is time I made the announcement which will start all that lovely Barrington money flowing into Ravenswood’s depleted coffers.”
With a perfunctory bow, he whirled around, headed for the musicians’ platform where he planned to make his speech, and came face to face with his mistress, Sophie Whitcomb.
CHAPTER FOUR
T heo swallowed the anger that threatened to choke him. What in God’s name was his mistress thinking of to show her face at his engagement party? And decked out in an outrageous purple ball gown, the like of which he’d seen on the strumpets parading their wares on Drury Lane. It was the last thing he would have expected of a practical, no-nonsense person like Sophie.
All too aware that an expectant hush had fallen on the crowded ballroom, he pasted a welcoming smile on his face and lifted her outstretched hand to his lips. “How pleasant to see you, Mrs. Whitcomb,” he ground out between gritted teeth.
“I’m
The countess gave another derogatory sniff. “The dress is but one example of how the dreadful girl deceived us. She is not at all the diffident little creature she pretended to be.”
“Indeed she is not,” Theo readily agreed. “Personally, I find her combination of innocence and independent spirit quite fascinating. I can happily state I am not looking forward to my marriage with the same dread I felt yesterday.”
The countess’s nostrils flared with anger. “Your flippant manner does you no credit, Theo. As your mother—and the mistress of Ravenswood—I demand you show me the respect due me.”
Ravenswood. So that was what this was all about. His mother had apparently decided Meg Barrington posed a threat to her position as mistress of the historic manor house. He had wondered at her willingness to accept the squire’s shy, reclusive daughter as the future Countess of Lynley, despite her less than auspicious bloodlines. Now he understood her reasoning. A self-deprecating female such as Miss Barrington had appeared to be would be only too happy to leave control of the vast manor house in the dowager’s hands.
But as it turned out, his bride-to-be was not as timid as she’d first seemed. The vibrant young woman who had arrived at her betrothal ball in a shockingly inappropriate dress might very well demand her mother-in-law be removed to the dower house, as was customary.
He couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for his mother. What she had lacked in warmth, she had more than made up for in her dedication to Ravenswood in the four and thirty years she had been mistress of the Hampton family’s principal estate. The thought of relinquishing her position to a younger woman must be devastating to her.
On the other hand, for his own part, he found the idea of sharing Ravenswood with an enchanting little green-eyed cat much more appealing than his original plan of sharing it with a mousey frump and his demanding mother.
“Don’t worry. We’ll work something out to everyone’s satisfaction,” he said in the patient tone of voice he always used with his mother. He even halfway believed what he promised her. This evening he’d been dreading had gone so swimmingly up to now, he’d begun to think the same phenomenal luck that had seen him through many a close scrape on the Peninsula was once again his. With luck like that, how could a man go wrong?
“Now if you’ll excuse me, Mother,” he said with a conspiratorial smile he felt certain would placate her, “I believe it is time I made the announcement which will start all that lovely Barrington money flowing into Ravenswood’s depleted coffers.”
With a perfunctory bow, he whirled around, headed for the musicians’ platform where he planned to make his speech, and came face to face with his mistress, Sophie Whitcomb.
CHAPTER FOUR
T heo swallowed the anger that threatened to choke him. What in God’s name was his mistress thinking of to show her face at his engagement party? And decked out in an outrageous purple ball gown, the like of which he’d seen on the strumpets parading their wares on Drury Lane. It was the last thing he would have expected of a practical, no-nonsense person like Sophie.
All too aware that an expectant hush had fallen on the crowded ballroom, he pasted a welcoming smile on his face and lifted her outstretched hand to his lips. “How pleasant to see you, Mrs. Whitcomb,” he ground out between gritted teeth.
“I’m
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