A Certain Want of Reason Read Free

a row. “What good would that do?”
    “It would save the wear on the carpet from you pacing back and forth.”
    Lucia sank into the nearest chair. “I am sorry. I just do not see any point to all this fuss. I should be packing to leave, not primping for somebody’s soirée.” It was unfair for her to take out her aggravation on her friend, but the constant worry for Geoffrey and Helen’s safety had worn her nerves to shreds. Never before had she felt so helpless.
    “You cannot leave until Father is ready to escort you. Unless you’ve brought money to hire a private carriage?”
    Lucia looked down at the floor, twisting her slipper around the leg of her chair. “No, I have not.”
    “That was not fair of me and I am sorry. You should not travel on your own in any case. And while you wait for Father, you may as well enjoy the attractions of the city you came to visit.”
    “I came to visit you and your family, not a city.”
    “You came for both, and I perfectly understand. But to use your own argument, it would be poor manners indeed for you to leave without a proper visit. You’ve not had full benefit of our company yet.”
    “Very well, you know I’ve agreed to stay on until Saturday. But I do not see why I must accompany you out tonight.”
    “You must accompany me because any unattached femme in her right mind would sell her soul for an opportunity to meet the gentlemen of Adrington’s acquaintance.”
    “I’m not in the market, Eugenie.”
    “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Two
     
    “You realize that you are not truly obligated to marry her.”
    Edmund Rutherford turned at the sound of his friend Adrington’s low voice. “Oh, but I am,” he answered softly as they watched a small circle of ladies and gentlemen flirt with one another across the room.
    “No court in the land would hold that promise enforceable. And a breach of marriage suit may be paid off like any other,” Adrington insisted.
    One of the ladies in the group they watched, dressed in a sheer yellow gown that glowed almost translucent under the bright light of the chandelier, tipped her head back too far and uttered a coarse laugh that echoed off the polished marble floor.
    Edmund closed his eyes for a moment but did not allow himself to turn away. “The promise was made on her mother’s deathbed. Her family relies upon the connection, the acquisition of the title. My mother promised hers that our families would be joined forever by the match.” He shook his head. “Such a promise cannot be set aside like an inconvenient contract for the sale of a horse.”
    “So you would have yourself bound to the purchase of that animal, whether or not you want it, regardless of the fact that it might perhaps have been ridden before?”
    Edmund sighed. “Choose your words with care, sir, for though you are my closest friend and we stand in your house, I will not let you cast aspersions on my intended bride.”
    “Who said anything about Miss Newman?” Lord James Adrington smiled. “I thought we spoke of horses. Come, I do not believe you have yet paid your respects to Mother and Aunt Darlet.”
    Edmund allowed himself to be turned away toward the back of the room where older ladies and gentlemen not inclined to dance or speculate on the matches to be made during the season had already begun to size up potential whist opponents. The same annoying laugh echoed across the floor behind him, but now he no longer had to watch Jeanne.
    He only had to listen. Every so often, as he exchanged pleasantries with Adrington’s older relations, he could discern Jeanne’s voice above that of the others, followed by that almost ribald laughter. He could imagine the flirtatious flip of her eyelashes, her pouting lips, a playful slap on a companion’s arm—all gestures of which he had long since tired but other gentlemen seemed to still find intriguing.
    Why, then, could one of them not be engaged to marry her instead?
    “Rutherford, I do hope you