Brighton Road Read Free Page A

Ravenel launched into his proposal. He had
a magnificent voice, deep and full-timbred. But his delivery—Gwenda
winced. He might have been addressing a meeting of Parliament. She
could almost picture his rigid stance, one hand resting upon the
lapel of his jacket. He detailed quite logically and clearly for
Miss Belinda Carruthers all of the advantages of becoming Lady
Ravenel. These seemed to consist chiefly of estates in
Leicestershire, a house in town, and an income of twenty thousand
pounds a year. He was also prepared to generously overlook Miss
Carruthers's own lack of fortune.
    Gwenda shifted on the settle, having to bite
her tongue to overcome the urge to interfere. Ravenel was doing it
all wrong. Not that she was insistent that a man go down upon one
knee. But at least he ought to clasp Miss Carruthers's hands
between his own and forget all this rubbish about estates.
    "In conclusion," his lordship said, "I
believe our similarities of tastes and interests make for the
likelihood of us achieving a most comfortable marriage."
    Gwenda smothered a groan against her
hand.
    Ravenel added, almost as an afterthought, "
It is only for you, madam, to name the day that will make me the
happiest of men."
    A pause ensued at the end of his speech,
which drew out to such lengths that Gwenda could not forbear
sneaking another look even if it meant risking detection. Miss
Carruthers appeared tormented with indecision, her pretty face not
so much flustered as gone hard with calculation. The only thing
Gwenda could liken the woman's expression to was when she saw her
brother Jack contemplating some desperate gamble.
    "No!" Miss Carruthers finally blurted out.
"I¬I mean yes, I cannot " She flounced to her feet. "I mean I am
deeply sensible of the honor you do me."
    Not half as sensible of it as he was, Gwenda
thought wryly as she noted Ravenel's brow furrowing with the weight
of a heavy frown. Then she realized her interest in the situation
was causing her to lean too far forward and pulled herself
back.
    "I beg your pardon," he said. "But am I to
understand that you are refusing my offer?"
    "No!" Belinda cried. "What I truly feel is
that I cannot marry you, not—not at this time."
    "My dear Belinda," he began again, but his
growing irritation robbed the endearment of any effect. "Do you
wish to marry me or not? A simple yes or no will suffice."
    What a passionate attempt at persuasion that
was, Gwenda thought, rolling her eyes. How could Miss Carruthers
possibly resist!
    "If you would only wait until I come to
Brighton," Belinda faltered. "Just give me a little more time "
    "A little more time in Lord Smardon's
company?" Ravenel said. "I am not a complete fool, Belinda. I am
fully aware that the friend you intend to visit on the way to
Brighton is the Earl of Smardon. You are hoping to marry him, are
you not? That is why you will not return a round answer to my
proposal?'
    "Oh, no. I don't mean to marry anyone."
Belinda's voice dropped so low, Gwenda had to strain very hard in
order to hear her. "There is another reason for my reluctance. You
see, I was once engaged to a young officer, Colonel Adams of the
Tenth Cavalry. He—he died fighting in Spain. I fear I have not
quite gotten over my Percival's death."
    "Once engaged'?" Ravenel echoed. "You never
mentioned anything of the kind before."
    With good reason, Gwenda thought cynically.
There was a note of insincerity in Belinda's voice that made the
whole thing sound like a hum.
    "I hope I am not the sort of lady who goes
about wearing her heart on her sleeve." Belinda's voice broke.
    When Gwenda next peeked at the couple, she
saw that Belinda's eyelashes batted, fighting back the tears that
made her eyes sparkle like jewels. Appearing uncomfortable, Ravenel
dredged up a linen handkerchief, which he thrust at her. Gwenda
wondered why the young lady's distress roused no sympathy in her.
Rather, she felt as though she had stumbled into the second act of
a very bad melodrama.
    "Thank