Free A Woman Made for Pleasure by Michele Sinclair

return. Of the three, she seems to be the most restless these days. Millie appears strong, but believe me when I say that she is the most vulnerable.”
    Millie, vulnerable. The idea was both absurd and plausible at the same time. Unfortunately, the concept of being restless was also all too familiar.
    He looked up and saw his mother’s golden eyes beseeching him. “I promise,” he murmured.
    Lady Cecilia had been watching her son mentally work through whatever real issues he was having with Millie. Relief filled her when he promised to be the Three’s escort. “Thank you,” she said, giving his arm a last squeeze before letting go. “Now, I will go and see what is taking those girls so long. We need to leave for Lady Bassel’s within the half hour.”
     
     
    Tonight was going just as expected, Jennelle thought. Admirers flocked, and then they quickly scampered away. Just as Mother Wentworth predicted, gentlemen gathered by her side singing songs of loveliness and enchantment, but just as quickly, they disappeared. If she kept mute, the men adored her. However, when she tried to shift the conversation to anything meaningful or interesting, the empty-headed fops quickly vanished, whispering words that would infuriate most ladies.
    Jennelle was neither ashamed nor embarrassed at being called a bluestocking. In fact, she took pride in it. She wished more ladies were interested in books, learning, and scholarly pursuits. She often longed to have been born just a few decades earlier. Then she could have joined the real Blue Stockings Society and met with like-minded ladies who actually gathered to discuss literature and other matters, not sit about frivolously bandying shallow words.
    In the past few hours, Jennelle had made more mindless small talk, labeled more women as gabbers, blabbers, and bleaters, and choked back more insulting words than she had thought possible in a lifetime. After tonight, she would dread any and all Society events. Thank the Lord, she had to stay here and endure this torture for only six weeks.
     
     
    Tonight has been absolutely dreadful , thought Aimee. It was just as her friends thought it would be. Millie, you should have found a way to delay our Season for at least one more year , she mentally admonished her friend. Surrounded by vain men, dancing with wishful suitors, and making pointless conversation, Aimee wondered how any intelligent woman could find these events pleasurable.
    Aimee knew she appeared to be the model young lady—affable, sociable, intelligent, and beautiful. In reality, she wanted only Reece. Last Christmas, she finally got the man to admit that he had feelings for her. That was all she needed to keep her faith constant. Although he told her to find someone else, that he was not right for her, her heart had not wavered. For the next few weeks, Aimee would act as was expected of a young, titled, wealthy, unmarried lady coming out for her first Season. She would attend these social events, but only to please her mother.
     
     
    Boring, boring, boring . Millie spoke the mantra to herself repeatedly. Tonight was incredibly monotonous, tedious, and worst of all—dull. Every conversation centered around one of two topics: upcoming social events or the current crush and its participants. Each time a gentleman asked her what she thought of someone else’s gown, she had to fight the urge to break out into fits of laughter. Where was the quick wit of London’s dandies that she had heard so much about?
     
     
    Tonight is unquestionably successful , thought Lady Chaselton. Her daughters were the epitome of beauty, grace, and poise. They were surrounded by admirers from the moment of their arrival and had handled them expertly. Despite the farce of charm they displayed, Cecilia knew they were suffering and miserable.
    It did not matter. Later in life they would understand, just as she had discovered, that true adventure lay ahead of them if they could find the right man to