Read Online The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection by Dorothy McFalls - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothy McFalls
Tags: Sweet and Sexy Regency
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tired after two consecutive nights of excitement, had wanted to spend the morning lounging abed. So they decided to forego their regular visit to the Pump Room.
With the morning free, May set out on a brisk walk up Beechen Cliff, hoping the fresh air and vigorous exercise would do the trick and clear her mind. For a third night, sleep had eluded her while she puzzled over her feelings toward the changes occurring in her life.
Gracious, it was only a meaningless kiss.
Men kissed women all the time.
Just not her.
Never her. At least, not before last night.
Not that she had minded being overlooked. Men only seemed to laud women who displayed a meek mind, spirit, and body—a weakness May loathed to feign. She was strong and healthy. Why should she slip into a fit of vapors just to win a man’s kiss?
May’s cheeks heated anew as the memory of the way the viscount’s lips had pressed against hers replayed its pleasing script. That simple brush of lips had made her tingly, alive all the way down to the soles of her feet.
But his magic had not addled her mind!
She’d seen women turn into besotted fools. An educated, independent woman such as herself must resist falling prey to such folly.
Viscount Evers displayed only too clearly his typical male character in the way he’d fawned over the simpering Lady Lillian once he’d rejoined the ball. He spent the rest of the evening laughing at her inane chatter and offering his arm when she appeared near to faint—as ladies were wont to appear after a long evening in the company of a beau. His cat-like grin was smeared with satisfaction as he supported Lady Lillian’s weaving pose. The expression told May all she needed to know.
Even though he didn’t pursue her company after stealing such a kiss, even though his gaze had never once strayed her way during the long hours that followed—he could have at least taken notice of her standing beside him while she spoke with Lady Lillian. No matter, she would have no interest in such a man, anyhow.
Mary Wollstonecraft had warned in her treatise for women’s rights how men who sought a withering woman for a wife made dreadful companions. Men such as those were only too ready to throw the yoke of servitude on the weaker sex .
May would never allow herself to fall prey to a man who could not respect her as an intellectual equal. Respect, Mary Wollstonecraft had written, had to come before marriage.
Gracious. Just a week ago, May would have happily considered herself a spinster—a woman well suited to live life alone or in service as a lady’s companion. But now her uncle seemed set on seeing her married. And soon . . .
Just last evening he hinted that an announcement might be made by the end of the week. The end of the week!
That was why she’d escaped the party and fled into the darkened library the night before. Everything was moving too fast. She and Winnie had always enjoyed a relatively quiet existence. When in London, suffering the droll company at teas and losing a night’s sleep when attending a dinner party or ball were once the worst of her worries. Of course that was all before Winnie had fallen ill.
Much like her parents, Winnie would not always be around.
May shuddered in the early morning breeze that whipped down from the top of Beechen Cliff. The chill passed through her like an unwelcome premonition. Uncle Sires was in the right to want to take Aunt Winnie away with him back to Redfield Abbey. He had the money and connections to see that his sister got the best care.
For May to cling to her beloved aunt would be unfair—as unfair as his uncle declaring her parents dead. There was simply no solid logic to support the decision.
The slope of the hill turned steep. May’s thoughts drifted off as her gaze turned to the ground and her concentration on keeping her balance.
“Ho there!” a voice called out as she neared the top.
May cupped her hand over her brow and peered up at the broad silhouette of
With the morning free, May set out on a brisk walk up Beechen Cliff, hoping the fresh air and vigorous exercise would do the trick and clear her mind. For a third night, sleep had eluded her while she puzzled over her feelings toward the changes occurring in her life.
Gracious, it was only a meaningless kiss.
Men kissed women all the time.
Just not her.
Never her. At least, not before last night.
Not that she had minded being overlooked. Men only seemed to laud women who displayed a meek mind, spirit, and body—a weakness May loathed to feign. She was strong and healthy. Why should she slip into a fit of vapors just to win a man’s kiss?
May’s cheeks heated anew as the memory of the way the viscount’s lips had pressed against hers replayed its pleasing script. That simple brush of lips had made her tingly, alive all the way down to the soles of her feet.
But his magic had not addled her mind!
She’d seen women turn into besotted fools. An educated, independent woman such as herself must resist falling prey to such folly.
Viscount Evers displayed only too clearly his typical male character in the way he’d fawned over the simpering Lady Lillian once he’d rejoined the ball. He spent the rest of the evening laughing at her inane chatter and offering his arm when she appeared near to faint—as ladies were wont to appear after a long evening in the company of a beau. His cat-like grin was smeared with satisfaction as he supported Lady Lillian’s weaving pose. The expression told May all she needed to know.
Even though he didn’t pursue her company after stealing such a kiss, even though his gaze had never once strayed her way during the long hours that followed—he could have at least taken notice of her standing beside him while she spoke with Lady Lillian. No matter, she would have no interest in such a man, anyhow.
Mary Wollstonecraft had warned in her treatise for women’s rights how men who sought a withering woman for a wife made dreadful companions. Men such as those were only too ready to throw the yoke of servitude on the weaker sex .
May would never allow herself to fall prey to a man who could not respect her as an intellectual equal. Respect, Mary Wollstonecraft had written, had to come before marriage.
Gracious. Just a week ago, May would have happily considered herself a spinster—a woman well suited to live life alone or in service as a lady’s companion. But now her uncle seemed set on seeing her married. And soon . . .
Just last evening he hinted that an announcement might be made by the end of the week. The end of the week!
That was why she’d escaped the party and fled into the darkened library the night before. Everything was moving too fast. She and Winnie had always enjoyed a relatively quiet existence. When in London, suffering the droll company at teas and losing a night’s sleep when attending a dinner party or ball were once the worst of her worries. Of course that was all before Winnie had fallen ill.
Much like her parents, Winnie would not always be around.
May shuddered in the early morning breeze that whipped down from the top of Beechen Cliff. The chill passed through her like an unwelcome premonition. Uncle Sires was in the right to want to take Aunt Winnie away with him back to Redfield Abbey. He had the money and connections to see that his sister got the best care.
For May to cling to her beloved aunt would be unfair—as unfair as his uncle declaring her parents dead. There was simply no solid logic to support the decision.
The slope of the hill turned steep. May’s thoughts drifted off as her gaze turned to the ground and her concentration on keeping her balance.
“Ho there!” a voice called out as she neared the top.
May cupped her hand over her brow and peered up at the broad silhouette of
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