Free The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness by Tamara Lejeune Page A

invited to Breckinridge at Christmas,” she replied. “We danced together twice at the ball, Mr. Purefoy.”
    Max was embarrassed. He ought to have recognized the sister of one of his oldest acquaintances. He blamed the American girl; she had wreaked havoc upon his equilibrium. Why, she must have flown from Wimpole Street to overtake him in Bond Street! And how had she known he would be in Wimpole Street? No one knew he liked to visit his old nurse.
    “Are you quite all right, Mr. Purefoy?”
    Isabella’s genteel voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Forgive me!” he said. “How are you? You are coming out this year, I believe?”
    “Last year,” she laughed. “Thank you for noticing.”
    “Yes, of course,” he murmured.
    “I was just on my way home. May I set you down somewhere? I believe the danger has passed,” she added with an arch smile. “Or has it? Indeed, your face is very red. I think perhaps I should wish you joy.”
    “Good God, no!” he said violently. “A slight entanglement, nothing more. I have been foolish, but not so foolish as to offer marriage. No! I merely promised to give a ball in that young lady’s honor at Sunderland House.”
    “I see. The beautiful girl is a relation, perhaps?”
    “She is no relation of mine. She is, in fact, an American.”
    Her eyes widened. “Not the American baroness everyone is talking of?”
    Max frowned. “No. Miss Waverly is the younger sister. I won’t bore you with all the details,” he added impatiently. “Suffice it to say that her elder sister nearly drowned because of me. While her ladyship recovered, it was only natural that I call on them in Clarges Street from time to time.”
    “Certainly. To inquire after Lady Waverly’s health.”
    “Just so! But I could not ignore Miss Pru—Miss Waverly, I mean. Perhaps it was wrong of me to show her a little of London, but I only meant to be kind. I did not realize that she was falling in love with me until it was too late. Now she is pursuing me in Bond Street! What am I going to do?”
    “It’s seems quite hopeless,” said Lady Isabella, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You will have to marry her.”
    “Don’t joke!” he pleaded.
    “Poor Mr. Purefoy,” she murmured. “Shall I set you down here? If we go any further, I shall be taking you home with me. I don’t think my brother would approve.”
    “May I call on you sometime?” Max asked, as he left her carriage.
    “Sometime?” she said coolly.
    “Tomorrow,” he said. “Are you in Grosvenor Square again this year?”
    “Yes,” she answered, holding out her hand to him. He kissed it, then closed the door.
    “What a piece of luck!” Isabella cried, as her carriage moved swiftly on. “Fate has dealt me a very promising hand. If I play my cards right, I might be a duchess. They say the Duke of Sunderland will not last another year.”
    “Yes, my lady,” said her maid.
    Isabella scowled at her. “And the next time a gentleman jumps into my carriage,” she said angrily, “you must hit him harder!”

Chapter 5
     
    Max strolled to his club, enjoyed an excellent late luncheon, and strolled back to Sunderland House, quite recovered from the shock he had sustained in Bond Street. Venable, the steady, dignified butler, let him in.
    “Is his grace still in bed?” Max asked, handing the parlor maid his hat and gloves.
    “No, sir,” Venable replied. “His grace is in the drawing room with Miss Waverly.”
    Venable spoke without inflection, but his doubts were betrayed by a slight lift in the brows and a slight question in the eyes.
    “What?” Max echoed in disbelief. “She had the audacity to come here?” Without waiting for any reply, he started up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
    “Max! There you are at last!” cried Pru, jumping to her feet as he burst into the room. “I have been keeping your uncle company, as you can see.”
    If Venable had seemed a little doubtful, the Duke of Sunderland seemed amazed.