Seducing an Angel Read Free Page A

realize. Stephen knew that Elliott and Constantine scarcely talked to each other—even though they had grown up only a few miles apart and had been close friends as boys and young men. And because Elliott did not talk to his cousin, neither did Vanessa. Stephen had always wondered about it, but he had never asked. Perhaps it was time he did. Family feuds were almost always foolish things and went on long after everyone ought to have kissed and made up.
    “What is it—” he began.
    But Cecil Avery had stopped his curricle beside them, and Lady Christobel Foley, his passenger, was risking life and limb by leaning slightly forward in her flimsy seat in order to smile brightly at them while she twirled a lacy confection of a parasol above her head.
    “Mr. Huxtable, Lord Merton,” she said, her eyes passing over Con before coming fully to rest upon Stephen, “is it not a lovely day?”
    They spent a few minutes agreeing that indeed it was and soliciting her hand for a set apiece at tomorrow evening’s ball, since her mama had only just decided that they would go there rather than dine with the Dexters as originally planned, but she had already told simply everyone that she was not going and consequently was positively terrified she would have no dancing partners except dear Cecil, of course, who had been her neighbor in the country forever and therefore had little choice, poor man, but to be gallant and dance with her so that she would not be an utter wallflower.
    Lady Christobel rarely divided her verbal communications into sentences. One had to concentrate hard if one wished to follow everything she said. Usually it was not necessary to do so but merely to listen to a word here and a phrase there. But she was an eager, pretty little thing and Stephen liked her.
    He had to be careful about showing his liking too openly, however. She was the eldest daughter of the very wealthy and influential Marquess and Marchioness of Blythesdale, and she was eighteen years old and had just this year made her come-out. She was very marriageable indeed and very eager to achieve marital success during her first Season, preferably before any of her peers. She was likely to succeed too. If ever one wished to find her at any large entertainment, one had merely to find the densest throng of gentlemen, and she was sure to be in their midst.
    But she had her sights set upon Stephen, as did her mama. He was well aware of it. Indeed, he was well aware that he was one ofthe most eligible bachelors in England and that the females of the race had decided this year more than in any previous one that the time had come for him to settle down and take a bride and set up his nursery and otherwise face his responsibilities as a peer of the realm. He was twenty-five years old and was, apparently, expected to have crossed some invisible threshold at his last birthday from irresponsible, wild-oat-sowing youth to steady, dutiful manhood.
    Lady Christobel was not the only young lady who was courting him, and her mother was not the only mother who was determinedly attempting to reel him in.
    Stephen liked most ladies of his acquaintance. He liked talking with them and dancing with them and escorting them to the theater and taking them for drives or walks in the park. He did not avoid them, as many of his peers did, for fear of stepping all unawares into a matrimonial trap. But he was not ready to marry.
    Not nearly.
    He believed in love—in romantic love as well as every other kind. He doubted he would ever marry unless he could feel a deep affection for his prospective bride and could be assured that she felt the like for him. But his title and wealth stood firmly in the way of such a seemingly modest dream. So—though it seemed conceited to think so—did his looks. He was aware that women found him both handsome and attractive. How could any woman see past all those barriers to know and understand him ? To love him?
    But love was possible, even perhaps for a