A Heartless Design Read Online Free Page A

bench, lost in thought. Perversely, as soon as she was truly alone, she felt a sense of melancholy wash over her. Something about the evening reminded her too much of a particular evening in the past.
    In a flash, she realized what memory had been teasing her all night. She had been nineteen. On a night just like this, she received the proposal that her heart had been aching for. Her childhood sweetheart Vincent Jay had asked her father for permission, then asked her to marry him; she had erased the nervousness in his eyes with a happy, innocent kiss. That spring night was the beginning of an all too brief period of joy, one that abruptly ended in Vincent’s untimely death. Years later, the pain was still there. She couldn’t forget it. If only she could explain it to someone.
    “Stop it, you goose,” she muttered to herself. She didn’t need anyone to comfort her. She had endured years of solitude; she could endure one more night. She continued to sit quietly as the sounds of people walking by rose and faded. A couple walked by, speaking in low tones. Though she could not discern any words, the intimacy of the conversation needled her, making her oddly jealous of the pair.
    A gaggle of voices suddenly became louder, and a rustling of leaves brought her to her feet. It sounded as if someone had found her grotto. Then a huge shadow loomed over her.
    “Oh!” Cordelia stepped away, nearly tripping on the bench behind her, and found herself staring at a tall—and devastatingly attractive—gentleman.
    “Pardon me.” The man bowed slightly, looking just as surprised to see her. “I didn’t know this hiding place was occupied.”
    “Are you in need of a hiding place?” she asked, finding her footing.
    He smiled faintly. “I fear I am being stalked by the…mothers.” As if to emphasize his predicament, he kept his voice low. Dark eyes gleamed with amusement.
    Cordelia hesitated for a second, then decided that for once, propriety could be ignored. She was old enough to sit with a man in a secluded spot if she chose. And she was curious about the newcomer. “Please join me, then. I can sympathize with the need to avoid matchmakers.” She sank slowly back onto the bench.
    He sat next to her. “I’m sorry to have intruded on your privacy,” he said.
    “It’s of no matter,” she said, putting out her hand, white in the dappled moonlight. He took it, bowing his head just a bit, in a polite gesture. Then they caught the voices of the matrons every bachelor in London most dreaded, much closer this time. Putting a finger to his lips, he held her to silence while they passed by.
    When it was safe to speak again, Cordelia couldn’t suppress a soft laugh. It seemed that he really was just a fellow victim of the marriage mart. “You
are
being stalked, aren’t you?”
    “It’s a curse.” He looked at her, and she felt the intensity of his gaze. “I think you understand the feeling of being pursued.” 
    Cordelia shivered, thinking not of the dozen marriage proposals she’d received recently, but of the odd daydream she had earlier.
    He had not released her hand yet, and when Cordelia shivered, he must have felt it. She withdrew her hand, not even aware that he’d exceeded the bounds of politeness by keeping hold of her so long.
    “I wish they’d leave me alone,” she muttered, half to herself. He heard her comment though, saw her rub her arms to rid herself of the goosebumps that had arisen.
    “Are you cold?”
    “No,” she said lightly. “Well, yes. A little. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” But he had already shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her. Cordelia was cocooned in a comforting warmth, along with a masculine smell like leather, and perhaps sandalwood. The gesture was as intimate as it was chivalrous, and she was suddenly conscious of how much a stranger he was to her.
    Casting for a safe topic, she said, “I haven’t met you at these events before.” She waved her hand