Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) Read Online Free Page B

to offer himself as the last gift to a man beloved by them both.
    And she had never been more ashamed of herself.
    She immediately rang for Sally, and when that devoted servant came, Miss Pemberton said, “I wish to charge you with a nearly impossible task.”
    The maid cocked her fair head. “What would that be, miss?”
    “You are to render me pretty. Do something exotic with my hair and help me select my most flattering gown.”
    They had three hours in which to prepare her, and in that time Miss Pemberton slipped into and subsequently discarded some fifteen gowns before she found one that satisfied her. When two o'clock came, she knew she had done all that was possible to appear worthy of a proposal of marriage from the most handsome aristocrat in the ton .
    * * *
    Somehow, he'd never thought he would marry before he reached nine and forty. Without ever giving it much thought, he supposed he'd always wished to emulate the man he admired so thoroughly. But never—not even in his most inebriated state—had he ever thought he could marry a woman he didn't love.
    As he sat there in the Pemberton drawing room awaiting the young woman whose hand in marriage he was going to seek, he realized he did love Belle—but not like he had hoped to love a wife. Despite that she was a sharp-tongued, self-assured only child of a doting, elderly father who just happened to be in possession of one of the heftiest purses in all of England, Miss Annabelle Pemberton had always elicited in him a strong sense of protectiveness. One could not wish to protect a female one did not care about. He loved Belle as he loved Libby, Charlotte, Anne, and Georgiana—his sisters.
    He thought of Pemberton's words the day before when he spoke of a husband and wife growing to love one another. After they had children together.
    Bedding Belle, begetting a child with Belle? Even the pondering of such a thing was shocking, but the fact such a plan met with Mr. Pemberton's favor sanctioned it.
    De Vere respected no man as much as he respected Robert Pemberton.
    The door to the drawing room opened, and Belle glided into the room. He found himself observing her as if for the first time. Now he attempted to regard her as a prospective suitor. Which was deuced difficult! Look at her! She was as short as an eleven-year-old girl. His gaze whisked over her from the top of her flaxen locks, which were swept back from her face like that of a Grecian goddess, and along the gentle curve of her pale blue gown that swelled at her breasts.
    What the devil? When had Miss Pemberton grown such womanly looking breasts? Because he was knowledgeable about women's undergarments, he knew how stays smashed a woman's bosom until the tops of the breasts spilled out of the tight laces. Is that what Miss Pemberton had done today? He could not remember ever before being aware of Miss Pemberton's . . . ah, breasts.
    How old was she now? He distinctly remembered she was seven years younger than he, which would make her three and twenty. She obviously had not just sprouted a bosom. How could he have failed to notice such . . . protuberances before? Because he was not in the habit of lusting after his guardian's well-protected, much-beloved only child.
    He stood, favored her with a smile, and bowed. “Your beauty robs me of words.” Surprisingly, he spoke the truth.
    He had never previously thought of Miss Pemberton as a beauty, but on this day she was truly pretty.
    Her face, while not gawk-worthy, was free of flaws. And her pale blue eyes were very fine.
    She opened her mouth as if to protest, then must have thought better of it. Was she so unaccustomed to receiving praise? “Thank you, my lord. Please have a seat. Should you wish to be closer to the fire? It's another wretchedly chilly day.” She eyed him, smiling. “It was very good of you to bestir yourself.”
    Was this the same chit who'd castigated him the previous day? She was being much more agreeable than normal. She even