The Spring Bride Read Free Page B

and turned to her sister. “You can’t be seriously considering him, Jane. You don’t even know him—you said as much yourself.”
    â€œThat’s why I asked Lady Beatrice what she knows about him,” Jane responded tranquilly. “I’m curious.” She glanced at Abby. “I have a right to know, after all.”
    Abby bit her lip. “Of course.”
    The old lady picked up her teacup and regarded Jane for a thoughtful moment. “Good family, of course—been here since the conquest. I’m fairly sure I attended the boy’s christening.” She took a sip of tea, grimaced and signaled for Abby to add some brandy to it.
    â€œAs for Cambury himself,” she continued, “I’ve heard nothing to his detriment. His aunt, Dora, Lady Embury, comes occasionally to my literary society.” Nobody said anything and the old lady added, “You gels must know her. Large lady, lives on the other side of the square. Often dresses in purple—not the shade I’d advise for a woman of her high color—and could talk the leg off an iron pot. Owns a herd of little yappy dogs.”
    â€œOh, yes, I know who you mean,” Jane said. She’d seen and even patted the dogs in the park.
    Lady Beatrice continued, “According to Dora, her beloved Edwin—Cambury—is a perfect paragon—a dutiful nephew—his parents died some years ago—visits Dora often enough to keep her happy but doesn’t appear to be tied to her apron strings. Even walks those dratted little dogs for her on occasion.” She shook her head. “As for what he does with himself, from what he said, his passion in life seems to be collecting beautiful things. He told me he considers himself ‘a connoisseur of beauty.’”
    She snorted. “In fact, it’s more or less how he referred to you, Jane—said he wishes to acquire a beautiful wife to complete his house full of beautiful objects. Houses,” she corrected herself. “He has three that I know of. One in London, another his country seat—Cambury Castle—”
    â€œA castle?” Jane echoed.
    â€œYes, quite a magnificent estate—and a place in Brighton—he’s a member of the Prince Regent’s set.”
    â€œCoxcomb! I don’t care whose set he’s part of or how many houses he owns, or how much his aunt dotes on him,” Abby said hotly. “Jane deserves better than a man who doesn’t even bother to get to know her before offering for her hand, a man who wants to
add her to his
collection of beautiful things
—I’ve never heard of anything so outrageous—and I hope you told him so, Lady Beatrice.”
    The old lady made a vague gesture. “It’s not for me to say who Jane will or won’t marry. She must decide for herself. Cambury’s coming back tomorrow at three to speak to her.”
    â€œGood. Jane can tell him herself, then.” Abby turned to Jane. “And I hope you send him away with a flea in his ear. The arrogance of the man!”
    Jane didn’t respond. She couldn’t think straight. She’d expected—well, hoped—for an offer of marriage from some eligible gentleman, but not before the season had even started. And certainly not from someone she’d barely exchanged a word with. Or anyone so . . . rich. With a
castle.
    â€œJane?” Abby said, frowning. “You will send him away, won’t you?”
    Still Jane said nothing. She had no idea what she would do. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her.
    â€œIt’s what you’ve always said you wanted, isn’t it, my dear?” Lady Beatrice asked after a moment. “To make a good marriage to a wealthy man?”
    â€œOh, but that was before,” Abby said. “Back then, when we were destitute and quite horridly desperate. I’d say any one of us would have agreed to marry a virtual stranger