Free Blossom Time by Joan Smith Page A

relatives that I am sometimes tempted to marry a fortune.” This was accompanied by a laugh to show he joked.
    “I’m sure you would not have any trouble, milord,” she said. “Someone of your intellectual attainments, to say nothing of your title and—” She blushed demurely and said daringly, “And your beauty.”
    He laughed again, but there was a different note to his voice. “Are you from a large family, Miss Fortescue?” he asked a moment later.
    “No, I am the only child,” she said. “If Papa had a large family to provide for, I expect he would still be in London. When a man has accumulated a good fortune and has only one to provide for, he may retire and do as he pleases—even if it does not please his daughter,” the city creature added with a moue.
    She saw the glint of interest in his eyes and felt she had said enough for the moment. She hoped to have another conversation with Lord Sylvester before he left, but as things turned out, Sylvester left very soon.
    Lady Amanda reminded him that he was to have a look at the John Donne fragment, and as he was leaving the next day, it seemed he must go that night. He apologized profusely to Dick, then went in search of Rosalind.
    “This would be such a coup for Camena that I mustn’t hurt her feelings by refusing to go,” he explained. “If she takes a huff, she might very well send the Donne fragment to Blackwood’s or the Edinburgh Review in spite.”
    “Yes, of course you must go,” Rosalind agreed. “If you get away early, you might come back for another dance. It is only ten-thirty. I expect the party will go on until one.”
    “That was my intention,” he said with a conspiratorial smile. “You and I have not had a moment alone to get to really know one another. I feel we have more than poetry in common?” When she seemed pleased at this lure, he seized her fingers and squeezed them tightly. “I give you fair warning, Miss Lovelace, I want a deal more than words on paper from you.”
    She blushed like a peony and gave a breathless little laugh. Sylvester, satisfied that she was amenable to seduction, went to fetch Lady Amanda’s mantle.
    As Harwell watched their departure from across the room, he chewed back a smile and went to join Rosalind.
    “Well, well,” he said. “Now you see what you will be up against in London. The town is rife with ladies of Lady Amanda’s sort. Sure you can hack it?”
    “Quite sure,” she replied, with a maddening smile.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    They spoke in the hallway just outside the ballroom door.
    “Lord Sylvester always puts the good of his magazine first, Harry,” Rosalind said, with a proprietary air. “Quite rightly, too.”
    “I should be very much surprised if Amanda has any scribbles of John Donne’s in her library,” Harwell replied. “It was an excuse to snatch Sylvester out from under your nose. You may accept his departure with equanimity, but your lady guests will be heartbroken.”
    She gave him a tolerant smile. “He does seem to be universally pleasing, does he not? To everyone but you, I mean.”
    “It pleases me that he has spared me a round with Amanda. And by the by, your beau is especially pleasing to Miss Fortescue, in case you are blind and failed to notice the chit throwing herself at him.”
    As they spoke, Snow Drop came flying down the staircase with Sukey in hot pursuit.
    “You’re supposed to be in bed!” Rosalind scolded. “And you haven’t even undressed yet.”
    “I had to go to the kitchen first to get some cake from Cook,” the child replied, as if to an idiot. “I was just going to bed. I told that stupid Snow Drop to wait on my pillow, but she fell off.”
    Snow Drop, who considered the whole thing a game, looked over her shoulder at her pursuer, then darted into the ballroom. Sukey took off after her. Rosalind didn’t see the resulting confusion, but she heard it. Some lady—it sounded like Mrs. Warbuck—let out a frightened howl. There was a