Read Online The Romance by M. C. Beaton, Marion Chesney - Free Book Online

doors were flung open and Jiggs intoned, ‘The Honourable Peregrine Vane.’
    Saint Clair had white-leaded his face. Cracks of sour disapproval began to run across his white lead mask as he surveyed his cousin.
    ‘What brings you?’ he asked.
    ‘Uncle sent me down to see things were running smoothly.’
    ‘They are, so you can turn around and go away.’
    Perry threw Belinda a comically rueful look and she found herself smiling. ‘Can’t do that. I have your father’s orders and you know he always expects them to be carried out.’
    Saint Clair did not have the energy to be irritated for long. He gave a little shrug. ‘MissBelinda, may I introduce my cousin, Mr. Vane. Perry, Miss Belinda Beverley.’
    ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance,’ said Perry. He was taken aback by Belinda’s beauty. It was not just her beauty that was dangerous, he decided, but her almost sensual air of femininity, of vulnerability. Shrewd Perry saw immediately what even Belinda’s sisters had failed to observe: that Belinda Beverley was not made of iron, and that at the back of her large eyes was a certain something that told him that far from being triumphant at being back at Mannerling again, Miss Belinda was heartily wishing herself somewhere else—anywhere else.
    Across the room, Jane Chalmers’s cool grey eyes studied Belinda as well. She had quite decided to make a play for St. Clair. Jane did not regard the dashing Mrs. Ingram as competition. She considered the widow little better than a member of the demi-monde and definitely not marriageable goods. Jane already coveted Mannerling. Earlier that day, the housekeeper had taken her on a tour of the place. She had marvelled at the beauty of the painted ceilings, at the fine plaster cornices, at the elegance of the double staircase rising out of the great hall. Through each long window lay a cool green vista of woods and gardens. She felt in an odd way that she had come home, that she could never, ever live in any other place again.
    Although she admitted that Belinda was beautiful, she, too, had heard the girl was badly dowered and therefore did not anticipate much competition. Lizzie, covertly watching everything, saw Jane’s assessing look, and her heart sank. It had all seemed so simple on the journey down to Mannerling. Now, as she saw it, Belinda was surrounded by rivals.
    Dinner was announced. They entered in order of precedence, which meant that Lord St. Clair, as host, led Lady Beverley in, followed by Lord Gyre with Mrs. Chalmers on his arm. Belinda was near the rear, with Gurney Burke, and at the very end came Mrs. Ingram with Lizzie.
    Lizzie was prepared to dislike what she privately damned as ‘this fallen woman,’ but Mrs. Ingram gave her a friendly smile and said, ‘I see we both have red hair.’
    ‘Such a social disadvantage,’ mourned Lizzie. ‘Red hair is so unfashionable.’
    ‘Nonsense. It makes us both stand out in a crowd. Together we make everyone else look colourless.’
    Lizzie found herself smiling back. ‘See,’ said Mrs. Ingram gaily, ‘they have placed us both together at the end of the table, but we do not mind, do we? For we can have a comfortable coze.’
    Feeling that she should neither be grateful for nor encourage such company, Lizzie gradually found she was enjoying herself. Shedid at first start to enthuse about the glories of Mannerling and about the wretched plight of the Beverleys when they had lost their home, but all Mrs. Ingram did was give her an infectious laugh and say teasingly, ‘Now, my dear, it is a very grand and elegant place, but it is gone unless Saint Clair pops the question, and surely your sister is worth better than Saint Clair.’
    ‘What is up with him?’
    ‘He is an amiable fool, and although your sister is now playing the part of amiable fool as well, and to perfection, too, she will surely tire of the act.’
    ‘But Lord Saint Clair would perhaps make an amiable husband?’
    ‘I would not depend on