Promise of Pleasure Read Free Page B

for cash, so Victoria’s dowry was very small. She’d ended up shackled to Mary’s prosperous father, but his money hadn’t bought her any happiness.
    She was selfish and moody and never satisfied. Not with her home. Not with her daughters. Not with her servants. And most especially, not with Mary, whom she’d never liked.
    “Why are you so concerned about Felicity?” Victoria queried. “Her marital negotiations are hardly any of your business.”
    “I think he’s wrong for her.”
    “And who would be more right ?” Victoria sneered. “He’s a viscount; he’ll be an earl. Nothing can change those two vital facts.” She waved her hand, dismissing Mary. “Go away. You annoy me.”
    Mary peeked at Cassandra, wishing her half sister would offer a supportive comment, but Cassandra merely shrugged as if to say, what did you expect?
    Without another word, Mary left them.
    She couldn’t figure out why she was complaining about Redvers. Felicity could wed whomever she wanted. It just seemed inequitable that, while Mary constantly dreamed about marrying, Felicity would choose Redvers with barely a thought as to the consequences.
    Mary had the same Barnes’s blood running in her veins, had had the same wealthy father. Why couldn’t she have a suitor like Lord Redvers?
    Previously, she hadn’t minded Victoria’s obsession with making brilliant matches for Felicity and Cassandra. Mary had deemed it all so much nonsense, but recently, the unfairness had begun to gnaw at her. She didn’t even like Redvers, but he’d stirred a pot of restlessness that had her boiling with frustration.
    Why couldn’t she—just once!—be the girl everyone adored?
    She’d intended to go to her room and sulk, but instead, she headed for the woods and the path that led to the house where Harold lived with his mother.
    As she moved into the trees, she saw Harold coming toward her, which wasn’t surprising. The supper hour was fast approaching, and he had a habit of showing up at Barnes Manor as the meal was about to be served. Victoria always invited him to stay.
    He was fussy and bookish and pudgy—the total opposite of masculine, vigorous Lord Redvers.
    Normally, she ignored Harold’s plain features and persnickety routines, but with Redvers’s arrival, she had grown critical. After meeting the viscount, Harold seemed ordinary and . . . and . . . boring.
    There! She’d admitted it. He could be positively tedious, and it galled that she’d had to set her sights so low.
    “Hello, Harold,” she greeted as he neared.
    “Mary, I’ve advised you not to walk through the forest un-escorted. Why won’t you listen to me?”
    It was a recurring argument she couldn’t win. “You know I’m not allowed to use the carriage.”
    “Then you shouldn’t visit me.”
    “But I had to see you. It couldn’t wait.”
    “What is so urgent?”
    “I’m tired of keeping our betrothal a secret, and I want to have the banns called at church.”
    “Call the banns! Are you mad? Mother would never agree.”
    “Harold, you’re forty years old! Inform her that it’s going to happen—with or without her blessing. She’ll come to accept it.”
    “What if she doesn’t? What if the news sends her into a decline? I won’t be responsible for . . . for . . . killing my own mother!”
    “I’m not suggesting you kill your mother,” she snapped. “I simply want to marry you. Is that a crime?”
    “We’ll have plenty of time to tie the knot after the old girl passes on.”
    “I want to do it now.”
    “It’s out of the question.”
    His obstinacy incensed her, and contrary to how she typically acted, she refused to take no for an answer. She stepped in, so close that her skirt brushed his legs. At her bold advance, he looked as if he might faint.
    “What are you doing?” he inquired.
    “I’d like you to kiss me. You never have, and I’m asking you to.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me. Kiss me. Right here. Right now.”
    “You have gone