Free The Incomparable Miss Compton by Regina Scott Page B

hair without wondering how it would feel to run her fingers through it. She could not consider his strength without thinking about how it felt to be held in his arms. She could not ponder her conversation without savoring the deep rumble of his laughter when she’d been witty or audacious. Was she therefore lost?
    She sat up and pounded down the pillow, then threw herself flat once more. That was quite enough. She was not some ape leader, some graceless, faceless spinster to feel grateful for a moment of his time. She might be nearly penniless, but she had a purpose and a future. She would focus on that and let Malcolm Breckonridge be hanged. She just had to get Persy married first. Surely she could accomplish that.
     * * * *
    She was not so confident the next day. As usual, the knocker sounded repeatedly throughout the afternoon and by the time the duke arrived at four, Persy was surrounded by no less than six suitors, all trying to outdo one another for her favors. Though two had already overstayed their welcome by an hour, none showed the least inclination to leave. The duke had engaged Sarah in fifteen minutes of meaningless conversation and taken himself off in high dudgeon. Persy didn’t even notice.
    Nor was she repentant when Sarah pointed out the problem that evening at dinner before a theatre outing with Norrie and her husband.
    “He will value me all the more if he knows I am popular,” Persy assured her calmly. “Have we heard any word from Lord Breckonridge?”
    Sarah started at the name. Indeed, she had started at every knock at the door that afternoon, only to sag with disappointment when each caller was only another of Persy’s admirers. Silly woman , she had scolded herself for her yearnings. He probably wasn’t coming anyway. And even if he was, it was only the day after the ball. It was much too much to think he would appear so soon. True, Persy’s admirers seldom let twenty-four hours go by before rushing to renew the acquaintance, but Lord Breckonridge was hardly a lovesick swain.
    “I have heard nothing,” Sarah told her cousin.
    Persy sighed, fussing with the skirt of her lavender lustring dress. “Perhaps he was not interested after all.”
    “I’m sure we are the least of his worries,” Sarah replied, feeling as if she were trying to convince herself rather than her cousin. “He has a country to run, after all. You cannot expect him to dance attendance on a woman who is not even a close friend.”
    “I suppose not,” Persy replied. Her tone was so subdued that Sarah could not help but be touched. Perhaps if Persy could care about Sarah’s potential suitor, all was not lost with the girl.
    No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Sarah cringed inwardly. She had to stop this nonsense at once. She could not get her hopes up that Malcolm Breckonridge might court her. She was long past the age of whispered secrets and longing glances across crowded ballrooms. She had other plans for her future, and Lord Breckonridge would surely be looking for a woman with more social connections anyway, certainly not a reclusive spinster from the back of beyond. He must have another reason to call.
    But if he called on Persephone, she thought she would cheerfully be sick all over her cousin’s fashionable gown.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Appleby was tight-mouthed as he dressed Malcolm the morning after Lady Prestwick’s ball.
    “I take it the gossip was less than useful,“ Malcolm probed.
    “I regret to say, my lord,“ his valet intoned, “that Miss Sarah Compton is a singularly uninteresting female.“
    Malcolm chuckled. “I did not find her so. You learned nothing then?“
    “Nothing of import,“ Appleby replied with a dour face. “Her servants adore her. Her neighbors find her a model of decorum. She is virtuous, hard-working, and loyal to her family. She has a select group of acquaintances, including the Countess of Wenworth. I could not find a crumb of gossip associated with her name,