Free To Capture Love by Shereen Vedam Page A

her by her arms. “You’re crushing my Spencer, sir. Pray, show a modicum of caution. You shall make it seem as if I slept in the thing and this is already the second time I’ve had to change.”
    The inanity of the comment struck Stone with force.
    He released her and bowed. “My apologies for wrinkling your garment,” he said with studied sarcasm.
    She met his gaze, and he found himself pierced by a pair of clear gray eyes that seemed to perceive him for the first time.
    “Oh,” she said and stumbled down a step.
    Pedestrians stopped to view their exchange and whispered among themselves. Stone made to pass by but she halted his progress.
    “My lord,” she said, with a hesitant smile. “Pray forgive me for…”
    He cut her off with a raised hand. So, she had 2

    To Capture Love

    recognized him as a peer. Well and good. “Kindly step away,” he said in a cold voice designed to give the most determined miss a clear set-down.
    “But you don’t understand, my lord. You see my carriage was caught behind a toppled cart of vegetables not a block away. And I’m…”
    “Pray desist! I’ve no interest in being introduced to you in such a ramshackle manner. Let me make myself perfectly clear, so you waste little time in the coming weeks as the season progresses in attempting to make my acquaintance at a ball, a musical, or even in public in front of the museum. I am not in the least entertained by bird-witted females more concerned with their attire than proper conduct, nor in those who have no more enlightened thoughts in their heads than the cut of their bonnet or the crease on their Spencer.”
    The young lady looked as if she’d been suitably chastised and a titter of laughter erupted from the crowd gathered. Stone ground his teeth at having provided entertainment for strangers. His head throbbed as he gave the woman a sardonic bow and left.
    Pauline Blackburn sent the limping form of the retreating earl a worried look. His proud silhouette reminded her of a fine English Alabaster statue.
    “Oh, Miss Pauline,” her maid whispered. “What are we to do? This story is sure to grease the mills ‘fore sunset. Every household in the city will know that his lordship has given you a set-down. You may be refused a card to Almack’s this season.”
    “I’ve no interest in attending ever again, so that hardly signifies.” Her Almack days were long past.
    Pauline had made her come-out over three summers ago and had not ‘taken,’ which, according to her mother, was entirely due to Pauline’s forbidding aspect whenever a gentleman came to call on her.
    Having successfully married off three other daughters, but seeing no method of getting around their stubborn youngest girl, her parents had relented and allowed Pauline to pursue her passion for sculpting. They only insisted on one caveat, that during the Season, she must attend no less than five assemblies or balls or the theatre, and smile at the gentlemen when they asked her 3

    Shereen Vedam

    to dance or spoke with her. Pauline had agreed absently, knowing it to be a small price to pay for having gained the freedom to sculpt.
    She lost sight of the earl among the crowd and continued on her way inside. The short meeting with the earl had brought back vivid memories along with an uncomfortable fluttering in her heart. Feelings that she thought had shattered into rubble long ago, now reformed.
    Though Lord Ashford did not know it, she had met him before, in the Queen’s Drawing Room, during Pauline’s presentation. He had hardly noticed her then, so focused had he been in conversation with his friends, but she had been entranced by the young officer in red.
    He had had a magnificent physique and when he took a lady onto the dance floor, he moved with the grace of an athlete. He cast every other gentleman into the shade, leaving her with an instant tendre for the handsome uniformed soldier. He had been merely Mr.
    Matthew Livingston then, cousin to the late