Free The Bridal Quest by Candace Camp Page A

wondered if it was possible that the earl might succeed where other men had failed.
    Her curiosity had been aroused when Radbourne had suggested to her that she include Lady Irene on her list of possible matches. To begin with, she wondered how he even knew her. Until Gideon had been found by Rochford and returned to the bosom of his family, he had not moved in the same circles as Irene, and after he came home, it sounded as though he had more or less been secluded with the family at their country estate. Where and when had he seen Irene?
    More than that, she wondered why he was interested in her. Irene was not unattractive. Indeed, in Francesca's opinion, Irene was one of the most intriguing-looking women in London. Her large eyes were a clear light brown, almost a golden color, and they were nicely accented by long lashes and nicely arched brows of a slightly darker shade than her hair. Her features were clean-cut, if a trifle strong, and her thickly curling dark blond hair gave her a leonine look that was slightly exotic. She was not the typical beauty, perhaps, but she was appealing—or would be if she did not make such an effort to dispel any interest in her looks.
    She usually wore her hair pulled ruthlessly back and pinned into a severe knot, thereby negating the most beautiful aspect of her looks. Her clothes were likewise severe; though of good cut and material, they were plain to the point of dullness. She allowed nothing to soften her looks—or for that matter, her personality.
    "Hiding?" A dry male voice said from behind Francesca, and she turned her head, startled.
    She smiled. Sir Lucien Talbot stood there, his handsome face set in its usual wry lines, his eyebrows arched in amused question.
    "Or are we spying?" he went on, moving up beside her and peering out across the ballroom. "May I join you?"
    "Of course," Francesca replied, smiling back at him.
    Sir Lucien was her oldest and dearest friend, and the only one who knew the dire state of her finances. As one whose pockets were frequently to let himself, he had long ago recognized that Francesca was living on the edge of financial disaster. He had even, especially in the early days right after her husband's death, taken a few of her items to pawn or sell for her, as a lady could scarcely be seen doing such a thing. Though Francesca had never told him that the projects she had taken on over the past few years were chosen for the monetary benefit she received in one form or another, she thought that Sir Lucien at least suspected she was not shepherding difficult girls through the marriage mart that was a London Season simply for the fun of it.
    "I am waiting for Irene Wyngate to come back into the ballroom. She went out onto the terrace a few minutes ago with the Earl of Radbourne."
    "Irene Wyngate?" Sir Lucien asked, his eyebrows vaulting up again in a genuine expression of surprise. "You are putting her forward as a candidate for the position of countess?"
    Francesca had told Lucien yesterday about Lady Odelia's scheme to marry off the newfound heir to the earldom, as well as of her own part in the matter. Sir Lucien, as one of the best-known arbiters of good taste and fashion, had on more than one occasion in the past been quite useful to Francesca in putting forward one of her "girls."
    "Lord Radbourne specifically asked me to include her," Francesca told him now. "I agreed to introduce them tonight. As soon as I did, he whisked her off."
    "Out to the terrace?" her friend asked, his voice assuming a lower, more suggestive tone. "Well, well ... I never would have imagined it of the Iron Maiden."
    "Pray, do not use that silly appellation. I cannot imagine why men have to come up with such odious nicknames."
    "My dear girl, because it suits her, and you know it.".He shrugged.
    "Well, I hate to think what I am known as," Francesca went on.
    "Why, my love, you are referred to only as 'The Venus', what else?" he replied with a grin. Francesca chuckled.