A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season by Nicola Cornick, Elizabeth Rolls, JOANNA MAITLAND
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wait until Cassie had put in an appearance. He wanted to speak with her. He was surprised to find that he felt a little nervous.
He was not certain that the adorable Miss Cassie Ward would accept his proposal of marriage. He had never put his fate to the touch before and he was discovering that it mattered to him a great deal that she should agree to be his bride. A night’s lack of sleep had not caused him to have second thoughts about the marriage. On the contrary, he was anxious to secure Miss Ward as his wife. However, he did want the chance to court her properly. He did not wish her to be forced into a betrothal as a result of their encounter at the inn. He wanted her to want him .
The beds at Lyndhurst Chase were supremely comfortable, but Peter had tossed and turned, alternately pricked by conscience and tormented by erotic images of the delectable Miss Ward. Never before had he been struck down by so powerful and instant an attraction. He was not entirely sure what had happened to him. All he knew was that he wanted Cassie Ward herself far more than he wanted her fortune, and if this was his final come-uppance as a rake and a fortune hunter, then he would embrace his fate with gratitude.
Conversation around the table had languished a little while ago. In the absence of a hostess at Lyndhurst Chase, Sarah, Countess of Mardon, was at the head ofthe table and was conversing in low tones with her husband, the Earl, who sat on her right. At the other end of the table, with the ancient setter dozing contentedly at his feet, Anthony Lyndhurst appeared engrossed in the Morning Post and every so often exchanged a few words with his Cousin William beside him. Lyndhurst-Flint in turn was chatting desultorily with Lady Margaret Burnside. Peter had known William Lyndhurst-Flint vaguely at Eton, although Lyndhurst-Flint had been a few years older. He had never liked him. Lyndhurst-Flint had had a reputation as a bully who forced younger boys to lick his boots and used the Eton Wall Game as an excuse to beat up the smaller pupils.
It was an oddly restricted group for a house party and Peter thought it bore out the rumour he had heard that, along with finding Cassandra a husband, Anthony Lyndhurst was taking the opportunity to appoint his heir. The field was small and it seemed to Peter that William Lyndhurst-Flint must be in with a good chance. However, perhaps the man was not certain of inheriting and that was why he persisted in pushing his suit with Cassie.
The door opened and Cassie came in, pausing on the threshold, her hand on the doorknob. Peter’s heart contracted. She looked outwardly collected and calm, but there was a flicker of apprehension in her eyes.
There was a little ripple around the breakfast table. Peter saw Lady Margaret watching Cassie with a bright, speculative look. She exchanged a glance with William Lyndhurst-Flint and made absolutely no effort to ease her charge’s situation. In that moment Peter saw exactly how Cassie stood with the rest of the family; Mardon and Lyndhurst’s brotherly indulgence, Lyndhurst-Flint’sspeculative amusement, Lady Margaret’s malice…Peter started to feel angry.
‘Cassie!’ Sarah Mardon said, smiling sweetly. ‘Come and join me down here. We can talk about our plans for the picnic.’ She patted the seat beside her.
William Lyndhurst-Flint got to his feet with studied charm. ‘Surely you should sit here, little cousin, beside your betrothed.’ He shot Peter a look. ‘I beg your pardon, the engagement is not yet formal, is it?’
Peter saw Cassie blush at the reminder, though whether with temper or embarrassment he was not sure. His anger hardened as he saw the way the other man was so casually trying to queer his pitch. He put his napkin down and stood up. He was taller than Lyndhurst-Flint and for a moment Lyndhurst-Flint looked intimidated.
‘Allow me, Miss Ward,’ Peter said with immaculate courtesy. He held the chair beside the Countess for Cassie
He was not certain that the adorable Miss Cassie Ward would accept his proposal of marriage. He had never put his fate to the touch before and he was discovering that it mattered to him a great deal that she should agree to be his bride. A night’s lack of sleep had not caused him to have second thoughts about the marriage. On the contrary, he was anxious to secure Miss Ward as his wife. However, he did want the chance to court her properly. He did not wish her to be forced into a betrothal as a result of their encounter at the inn. He wanted her to want him .
The beds at Lyndhurst Chase were supremely comfortable, but Peter had tossed and turned, alternately pricked by conscience and tormented by erotic images of the delectable Miss Ward. Never before had he been struck down by so powerful and instant an attraction. He was not entirely sure what had happened to him. All he knew was that he wanted Cassie Ward herself far more than he wanted her fortune, and if this was his final come-uppance as a rake and a fortune hunter, then he would embrace his fate with gratitude.
Conversation around the table had languished a little while ago. In the absence of a hostess at Lyndhurst Chase, Sarah, Countess of Mardon, was at the head ofthe table and was conversing in low tones with her husband, the Earl, who sat on her right. At the other end of the table, with the ancient setter dozing contentedly at his feet, Anthony Lyndhurst appeared engrossed in the Morning Post and every so often exchanged a few words with his Cousin William beside him. Lyndhurst-Flint in turn was chatting desultorily with Lady Margaret Burnside. Peter had known William Lyndhurst-Flint vaguely at Eton, although Lyndhurst-Flint had been a few years older. He had never liked him. Lyndhurst-Flint had had a reputation as a bully who forced younger boys to lick his boots and used the Eton Wall Game as an excuse to beat up the smaller pupils.
It was an oddly restricted group for a house party and Peter thought it bore out the rumour he had heard that, along with finding Cassandra a husband, Anthony Lyndhurst was taking the opportunity to appoint his heir. The field was small and it seemed to Peter that William Lyndhurst-Flint must be in with a good chance. However, perhaps the man was not certain of inheriting and that was why he persisted in pushing his suit with Cassie.
The door opened and Cassie came in, pausing on the threshold, her hand on the doorknob. Peter’s heart contracted. She looked outwardly collected and calm, but there was a flicker of apprehension in her eyes.
There was a little ripple around the breakfast table. Peter saw Lady Margaret watching Cassie with a bright, speculative look. She exchanged a glance with William Lyndhurst-Flint and made absolutely no effort to ease her charge’s situation. In that moment Peter saw exactly how Cassie stood with the rest of the family; Mardon and Lyndhurst’s brotherly indulgence, Lyndhurst-Flint’sspeculative amusement, Lady Margaret’s malice…Peter started to feel angry.
‘Cassie!’ Sarah Mardon said, smiling sweetly. ‘Come and join me down here. We can talk about our plans for the picnic.’ She patted the seat beside her.
William Lyndhurst-Flint got to his feet with studied charm. ‘Surely you should sit here, little cousin, beside your betrothed.’ He shot Peter a look. ‘I beg your pardon, the engagement is not yet formal, is it?’
Peter saw Cassie blush at the reminder, though whether with temper or embarrassment he was not sure. His anger hardened as he saw the way the other man was so casually trying to queer his pitch. He put his napkin down and stood up. He was taller than Lyndhurst-Flint and for a moment Lyndhurst-Flint looked intimidated.
‘Allow me, Miss Ward,’ Peter said with immaculate courtesy. He held the chair beside the Countess for Cassie
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