Elizabeth Powell Read Online Free

is rather well favored, I will admit. He has very fine blue eyes. Drawbacks: he chatters like a magpie about the most trivial matters imaginable. While you were dancing with another partner, he proceeded to quiz me on your preferences for a gentleman’s style of cravat. He then launched into an incredibly long-winded discourse on the advantages of tying one’s neckcloth in a
trone d’amour
as opposed to
à oreilles de lièvre
, or some such nonsense. I had to plead a megrim in order to escape; it was either that or run shrieking from the ballroom. Anyone who marries that idiot will never get a word in edgewise.”
    Pen made a few scribbles in her book. “So noted.”
    “And what did
you
think of him?”
    “I?”
    Jane snorted. “You are not getting off so easily, Pen. I know you dislike to speak ill of anyone, but we agreed when we started this that we each must voice an opinion, even if that opinion is not entirely flattering. You have already heard mine—now it is your turn.”
    Her older sister shifted on the hard bench, her pretty features contorted in a grimace of distaste. “Of his merits—yes, I also found him handsome. His eyes are very fine indeed. But his drawbacks … he trampled my feet black-and-blue during the allemande and talked about nothing but himself and his tailor the entire evening. As much as I hate to say this, dearest, Lord Heathford has to be the greatest clunch I have ever met!”
    “Oh, well,” Jane murmured. “Another one out of the running.”
    The older girl finished writing and turned the page. “But enough about him. What about Lord Camden?”
    Jane started. “Stay away from that one, Pen! The way he looks at you, the way he follows you with his eyes … he reminds me of a fox stalking a prized pullet. He makes me dreadfully uneasy. I cannot even give you anything for the Merit column.”
    A tremor shook Penelope, and she rubbed her palms briskly along her upper arms. “I agree. The last time I encountered him, he frightened me with the intensity of his regard. And I cannot overlook, his terrible reputation as a rake and a spendthrift.” She made several more notes. “I think we can take Lord Camden out of consideration.”
    Jane leaned over to look at her sister’s scribblings. “Where does that leave us?”
    “See for yourself,” Pen replied, and handed her the book.
    Ever since their arrival, Pen had kept a catalog of her beaux, complete with a column for the perceived merits and shortcomings of each, in order to make a more rational choice of a husband. And every afternoon the two of them sought out a quiet place in the house, well away from the curiosity of the servants (and the especially prying eyes and ears of McBride, their mother’s dresser), to go over what they called the List. Today the lovely May weather had enticed them into the tiny garden behind their rented town house; dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves of the knobby elm under which they sat, and a lovely profusion of jonquils and crocuses bloomed in the sunny spot toward the center of the garden. The playful breeze twitched at the edges of their skirts and rustled through the elm’s burgeoning cloak of green leaves. But all this vernal splendor could not distract Jane from the fact that so far their search was a dismal failure. She scowled and gave the List back to her sister. “This cannot be all the eligible bachelors you have met in the past six weeks.”
    “Well,” Pen sighed, “these are all the
titled
ones I have met. Botheration. If only Mama were not so insistent that I marry a lord. I have made the acquaintance of several amiable, untitled gentlemen, but Mama would fly up into the boughs if I even considered a mere ‘mister,’ or even a younger son.”
    Jane noted the dejected droop of her sister’s lips. Pen was right—and their mother’s temper was legendary. She took Pen’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We have been in London little more than a month, and we have