Captain's Bride Read Online Free Page B

exciting!
I’d simply swoon if he did that to me!” Miriam’s green eyes rolled
skyward at the mere thought.
    “He did no such thing. In fact, he doesn’t even like
me. He thinks I lead men on just for my—Oh, never mind what he
thinks. Captain Blackwell is an arrogant fool.”
    “Maybe. But he’s certainly an attractive man—in a
wolfish sort of way.” She grinned mischievously.
    The girls left Glory’s chamber and returned to the
landing just outside the second-floor ballroom. Miriam located
Nicholas Blackwell leaning against the far wall of the room in
conversation with Lavinia Bond and several other married ladies, a
bored expression on his face.
    “Lavinia certainly seems to like him,” Miriam said.
Glory followed the line of Miriam’s gaze. “Well, I don’t. I hope
Father enjoys his company, because I certainly don’t intend to
entertain the man.”
    Miriam leaned over to whisper in Glory’s ear. “I
heard a rumor the captain was seen leaving Lavinia’s house early
yesterday morning. Can you imagine?”
    Glory’s head snapped up. “Surely you’re
mistaken.”
    “I didn’t see him. Willard Darcy did. Willard told
Sarah Hashim and Sarah told me.”
    “You shouldn’t pay attention to gossip, Miriam,”
Glory said. “Besides, I don’t believe Father would invite a man
like that to our home.”
    “Men don’t think like we do, Glory. I know you’re a
little naive, but—”
    “I think we should change the subject, Miriam.
Captain Blackwell is our guest,” she said with feigned propriety,
but felt a surge of temper as she watched Lavinia leaning over him,
giving him an unfettered view of her lush bosom, and added, “even
if he is a . . . a cocksman !” Relishing the shocked
expression on her friend’s cherubic face, Glory stifled a grin.
“I’d better go now. Mark Williams has this dance. He’ll be looking
for me.” With a swish of organdy skirts, Glory left the hallway—and
her friend Miriam staring after her in wide-eyed astonishment.
    At supper Glory was seated beside Captain Blackwell,
with Eric Dixon on her right. The captain barely spoke to her. Most
of his conversation was spent on Alicia Townsend, an attractive
widow from Goose Creek whose late husband had been a close friend
of Glory’s father. Alicia was quietly attractive, with an elegant
figure and thick dark brown hair. She was intelligent and a good
conversationalist. Glory found herself straining to hear what
Alicia had to say to Nicholas Blackwell. Worst of all, she found
herself slightly pricked that he was paying the pretty brunette so
much attention.
    “Is something wrong, Glory?” Eric asked when the
waiter lifted her untouched bowl of she-crab soup.
    “What? Oh, no, Eric. I’m just not very hungry.” The
sound of the widow’s soft laughter set her even more on edge, and
Glory wondered if it really was her vanity making her so angry.
Could one man’s lack of attention upset her so? Glory didn’t want
to believe that about herself, but what other reason could there
be?
    Picking up her silver fork, she attacked her salad
greens with a little extra zeal. Whatever there was about the
infamous Captain Blackwell, Gloria Summerfield would not be
daunted. She intended to ignore him, pay him not the slightest
heed.
    That was no easy task when his solid thigh
inadvertently pressed against her, or when the deep cadence of his
voice in whispered conversation with the widow drifted to her
ears.
    Morning at Summerfield Manor was a joy to the
senses. Nicholas awoke to the fragrance of azaleas floating through
the open windows, the heat of the sun on his cheek. He stretched
and rolled to his side, meaning to caress the warm body next to him
but, with a start that erased the last of his hazy sleep, realized
he slept alone. No flaxen-haired beauty nestled beside him—she was
only a dream. With his mouth curved in a rueful half-smile,
Nicholas shoved back the satin cover and swung his long legs from
the huge four-poster rice