The Virgin Huntress Read Free

to get yourself killed before completing your end of this bargain.”
    “You need not fear on that score as I have just accepted the position of riding master to what remains of the Seventeenth Light Dragoons. It is a role in which I can function unimpaired by my injuries. But what of the broodmare? ” Hew thought this too good to be true, that there must be a catch somewhere. “I can only assume you have someone already in mind.”
    “Surprisingly, I do not,” Ludovic said. “I would not have you curse me the rest of your days. I shall let you enter hell by your own chosen path. I only ask that she be of good stock and bring a respectable dowry.”
    “A broodmare with a fortune then. You know they say there is no greater rogue than a man who weds only for money.”
    “And no greater fool than one who weds for love,” his brother quipped.
    “Love does exist, you know,” Hew said.
    “You waste your breath.”
    Hew shrugged. “I hate to think you a hopeless case. You’ve never kept a mistress above a month, never formed any lingering romantic attachment. Tell me, Ludovic, is there anything you truly care about?”
    The viscount considered the question for a long moment. “Horses,” he answered. “I care a bloody great deal about my stables.”
    “If you weren’t my own brother, I’d think you one heartless bastard.”
    Ludovic laughed outright. “Don’t let the blood connection stop you.” He then poured some brandy into his coffee and raised his cup in salute. “You already know it’s true, little brother, and for the record, it’s all the more reason I should not be the one to procreate!”
    “Fifty thousand,” Hew countered.
    “Done.” Ludovic’s smile told him he should have held out for more.

C HAPTER T HREE
    When the carriage finally pulled into the mews at the house on Upper Grosvenor Street, Vesta was beside herself with excitement. She had looked forward to her coming out from the moment she left pigtails behind, and now she was finally here to be presented to the sophisticated world as a woman grown. It was almost enough to make her forget the odors and confused tumult of the crowded city streets.
    “Is it always like this, Aunt Di?” she asked. “The stench? And the noise? How does one ever sleep?”
    “It is, indeed, a far cry from Yorkshire, my lamb.” Her guardian laughed. “But you shall soon adjust. You are more affected by it because it is strange and unusual to you, but over time, you will come to barely notice the foul smells or the sounds.”
    “That’s hard to imagine!” She plied a delicate, violet-scented handkerchief to her nose. Nevertheless, Vesta alighted from her father’s traveling coach bubbling with enthusiasm. “Isn’t it all lovely, Aunt Di?” she exclaimed at their elegant new abode with its private-walled rose garden.
    “It is perfect for us.” The elder woman smiled.
    The house was, indeed, perfect, and Vesta’s lavish bedchamber of pink and gold chintz even commanded a view of Hyde Park. Her father had told her that half the reason he had chosen the house was for its proximity to the Park through Grosvenor Gate. Knowing her passion for early morning gallops, he had also taken the trouble to send ahead her two favorite horses. No doubt it was an effort to get back into her good graces, but Vesta still didn’t know if she could ever truly forgive him. Yet perhaps she was already beginning to soften—just a little. She had nearly been moved to tears when Papa held her tightly and kissed her head upon their farewell. But then again, it was also her first trip away from home.
    While her abigail, Polly, attended to her unpacking, Vesta threw herself onto the canopy bed, closed her eyes, and fantasized about the parties, balls, operas, and theater. She pictured the exquisite gowns she would wear that would be the envy of every other young debutante, for though her father might not be a lord, Sir Edward Chambers was extremely prosperous, and where