Read Online The Wedding Chase by Rebecca Kelley - Free Book Online

just as she felt a hand at her elbow.
    “Miss Fleetwood. I would be pleased to have you accompany me to the picnic site in my curricle.” Lord Newton’s thin-lipped half smile had the unerring ability to send a small unpleasant flutter down her spine. “My new cattle are a lively pair, I promise you an enjoyable ride.”
    “I would be honored, my lord.” She forced herself to return his smile, allowing him to usher her to a brown-and-gold carriage. Much as she disliked Newton, she did not feel very brave, and it would be less dangerous spending the day with him. There was absolutely no possibility she would be tempted to throw herself into
his
arms. She caught sight of Lady Horeton attaching herself to Northcliffe and purposefully directed her attention back to Newton.
    Newton handed her into the curricle, speaking softly in his bass voice with just the hint of a nasal twang. “They do make a striking couple. He so large and dark and she so petite and fair. Were you aware that most men favor only one type of woman?” He smoothed his mustache, seemingly oblivious to Zel’s lack of response. “I prefer variety, but Northcliffe is clearly partial to petite, blond voluptuaries like his wife.”
    “Wife?” The word broke through her lips before Zel could stop it.
    “Yes,” Newton’s tone lowered. “His lovely, faithless, dead wife.”
    Zel sat, quiet, stiff. Dead wife! Curiosity and propriety warred in her. Propriety, augmented by apprehension, won, and she did not ask the questions burning in her throat. She did watch Northcliffe toss Lady Horeton onto the seat of a shiny black-and-silver high-perch phaeton and take the ribbons to the perfectly matched grays. She unclenched her fists, staring straight ahead. How like him to have such a flashy and bold conveyence.
    Wolfgang barely suppressed a groan as he settled on the seat beside Isadora, Lady Horeton, her childishly small hand at his arm. He would tolerate her company for the ride to the picnic, as Zel sat ready to depart in Newton’s carriage. Once there he would quickly abandon this plaguesome piece of female flesh.
    “Your little pet seems to have deserted you for Newton.” Isadora studied his face, clearly waiting for a reaction.
    “My little pet? I’d hardly call Miss Fleetwood little, a pet, or mine.” Wolfgang shifted his weight on the plush silver squabs, disengaging her hand. “I find it fascinating you watch her with such interest, Isadora.”
    “I have no interest in her,” she replied too quickly. “I only wonder about your interest. She’s not your type.”
    “You have no claims on me. Our liaison, such as it was, ended months ago.” He slid over the last few inches to put as much distance between them as the narrow seat allowed.
    She started to reach for his arm again, then seemed to think better of it. “You know, your little innocent may not be as innocent as she appears.”
    “Oh? And what makes you believe I give a damn if she is an innocent or not?” He gripped the ribbons and pulled the phaeton out to join the line of carriages wheeling down the drive, alarmed by the mixed feelings Isadora’s words stirred in him.
    “She may have an innocent air but I’d wager she’s as experienced as any streetwalker. And you were never one to seek the company of whores.”
    “You’re sadly mistaken. I fear I’m well known to associate with whores.” Wolfgang’s voice came out little more than a growl as he directed his attention to keeping his spirited horses within the confines of the plodding caravan.
    “Why do you treat me so badly?” He could hear the phony tears in her voice and twisted to see her bat damp eyelashes at him. “I only want to be your friend.”
    “We both know bloody well what you want from me.”
    “Whatever do you mean?” She dabbed at her eyes with her lacy handkerchief, the picture of injured innocence.
    His eyes veered back to the road. “We have been over this ground before.”
    “Yes, you are