Elizabeth Mansfield Read Online Free Page A

Elizabeth Mansfield
Book: Elizabeth Mansfield Read Online Free
Author: Matched Pairs
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card room door for his reappearance, but there was no sign of him. By that time Lady Branscombe had had enough of watching the dancing. She turned from her friend to her daughter. “Let us get our cloaks, my love,” she said. “I think it’s time we took our leave.”
    Julie, who for the first time in months was finding the assembly interesting, suppressed a sigh, obediently rose and followed her mother and Phyllis out of the ballroom. As they waited in the hallway while a footman ran to the cloakroom for their apparel, they saw Sir William leading the stranger toward the cloakroom. “Ladies,” he chortled heartily as he came abreast of them, “how fortunate to have met you here. You must let me make you known to our new arrival. Lady Phyllis Enders, Lady Branscombe and Miss Juliet Branscombe, may I present Peter Granard, Lord Canfield, newly of Wycklands?”
    They all murmured how-de-dos and made their bows. Then Lord Canfield took his host aside and whispered something in his ear. Just as the footman reappeared with their cloaks, Sir William, his plump cheeks quivering, hurried back to them. “Lady Branscombe, I beg you not to run off so early. Lord Canfield is interested in asking your Juliet to stand up with him.” Lowering his voice and beaming, he added, “Let me assure you that he’s truly interested. He says your daughter is the prettiest creature here.”
    Her ladyship frowned at the fellow coldly. “It’s much too late, I’m afraid,” she responded, so loudly that Lord Canfield had no choice but to overhear. “We already have our cloaks. Furthermore, Sir William, please inform his lordship that my daughter does not need to have butter-sauce poured over her.”
    Sir William colored to the ears. “Buttersauce, ma’am? Let me assure you he never meant to—”
    Lady Branscombe, noting that the footman had draped all three ladies with their cloaks, cut the master of ceremonies short with wave of her hand. She then bid him a brusque good night and pushed her daughter toward the stairs, Lady Phyllis scurrying behind.
    Julie, humiliated beyond words, threw a glance over her shoulder to see how his lordship had taken the slight. But Lord Canfield had already turned away; she could not see his face. If she could have seen it, she was certain that his expression would have revealed either utter disgust or, at best, nothing more than cool indifference.
    She felt her heart sink. I suppose, she said to herself glumly, that that’s the last I’ll ever see of him. After her mother’s foolish snub, who could blame the man if he never attended another of these dowdy, dull assemblies?
    But later, as she climbed into the carriage after her mother and Lady Phyllis, it occurred to her that she might very well see the gentleman again. He had purchased Wycklands, which made him a permanent resident. In so narrow a society, they were bound to be invited to the same dinner party someday. Or she might, when making an afternoon call, find herself in the same drawing room as he. Or they might even attend one of Mr. Weekes’s Sunday services at the same time. Unless the man was a recluse (and obviously he was not, for hadn’t her mother called him a libertine?), they were bound to meet one day. Tris had said that life was full of promising possibilities. She’d doubted him at first, but at this moment she was quite eager to believe him.
     
     

 
     
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    Lord Canfield, who’d been on the verge of leaving the assembly before he’d succumbed to the temptation to ask the shy little chit in the hallway to dance with him, turned at once toward the cloakroom again.
    Sir William followed at his heels. “I hope you’ve taken no personal offense, my lord,” the master of ceremonies muttered worriedly. “Lady Branscombe is brusque to everyone, let me assure you. She is quite the dragon.”
    “Is she indeed?” Lord Canfield smiled down comfortingly at the red-faced fellow. “But I’m not in the least offended. In
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