Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

respect."
    Sir Henry Clinton was the commander of the British troops in America. To date he had managed to hold New York and wage a successful blockade of America's northern coast. He liked Lucas Carrington, who had descended from a proud old English family on his mother's side. Sir Henry didn't hold Lucas' father against him, even though he had been born on the American continent.
    "I wonder, Lucas, if there is anything you do feel strongly about?" Sir Henry asked, eying the young gentleman closely.
    "Excuse me, Sir Henry," Edmund said, interrupting the conversation, "I am told that my cousin, Lucas, feels strongly about the opposite sex."
    General Clinton laughed deeply. "I have heard you fare well in that department yourself, Edmund."
    "Modesty prevents me from answering, sir," Edmund said, a twinkle in his eye.
    "Perchance your carefree days are over, Edmund. I have heard your betrothed will be presented to you later in the evening," the general said with mirth.
    "Yes, it would seem so, my lord. I wonder, have you seen her? Can you tell me what she looks like?"
    "Of course I have seen her. How could I allow Lord Chatsworth's only daughter to land in New York without paying my respects to her."
    "Is she fair of face, sir," Edmund asked.
    "Well," the general said evasively, "good looks aren't everything. After speaking to her I found her very well informed. We spoke of the books we have read, and I found her to be most intelligent."
    "Good lord, a bluestocking. I can already tell by your description that she is not fair to look upon. Pray, she doesn't have a wart on her nose!"
    "What is this, Edmund?" Lucas Carrington broke in. "Am I to understand that you are to take a bride?"
    Lord Clinton chuckled to himself and walked off, shaking his head. He enjoyed a good jest as well as the next fellow. He thought it wouldn't hurt young Edmund to squirm a bit.
    Edmund gave his cousin, Lucas, a woebegone look. "Let's find a place where we can talk privately," he said, leading the way out of the noisy, crowded room.
    Lucas gave Edmund a quizzical glance as they entered the morning room and found it to be empty; then he turned to his cousin. "Now, tell me, Edmund, what's this about you getting married?"
    Edmund seated himself on the sofa and leaned his head back against the soft cushions, staring at the ceiling. "You have heard me speak of my uncle, the Duke of Chatsworth?"
    "Yes, of course I have. I met him once while we were at Eton together."
    "Well, it seems I am to marry his daughter," Edmund stated flatly.
    Lucas laughed and lowered his tall frame onto a gray brocade chair. "I must say you don't sound too happy about the event. Am I to gather you aren't looking forward to a life of wedded bliss?"
    "My feelings don't count in the matter. It seems the duke paid a visit to my father, and between the two of them, it was decided I would marry my cousin, the Lady Season Chatsworth," Edmund said sourly.
    "Good lord, an arranged marriage. I am well pleased I am only related to you on our mother's side. I don't believe I would want to be under the thumb of the illustrious Duke of Chatsworth."
    "You can mock him if you like, Lucas, but my uncle is a very powerful man in England. It is said he is second only to the king. Had I been consulted in the matter, I might well have said no to the arrangement, but I doubt that my uncle's wishes have ever been thwarted."
    "Am I to take it that you have never seen your bride-to-be?" Lucas asked in a disbelieving voice.
    "I am sure I must have seen her at some family gathering, but she didn't seem to leave a lasting impression on my memory. From the way General Clinton spoke of her, I assume she is no great prize," Edmund said ruefully.
    "Still, Edmund, she is the daughter of a duke. That's reaching high, is it not?"
    "You haven't heard the worst, Lucas. A letter arrived from my sister, only this morning. She wrote me of the gossip going around London concerning my betrothed. It seems the Lady Season