Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness Read Online Free Page A

bit.  She stepped toward him, a smile pasted on her face. 
    “Here you are at last!” Liberty said brightly.  Her heart pounded in her ears.  She forced herself to look away from his wide shoulders and broad chest, but there was no help to be had in his glittering dark eyes and chiseled countenance.  She would have to discard all of her objections to England now.  Surely one could only admire a country that produced such a man.  “I can scarcely believe those adverts actually worked.  She’ll be so relieved that they finally brought you.”
    He stopped, his brows raised high, two flying signals of abrupt disapproval.  “You can scarce believe they worked?  I can scarce believe you would think of such a daft plan, let alone carry it out.”  The deep rumble of his voice reverberated in her belly—until the disparaging tone of his words set her back up.
    “Hold a moment,” she said, frowning.  “ I would think of such a plan?”
    At the same time, he scowled.  “Finally brought me ?”
    They exchanged accusing glances.  “You don’t know who I am!” they said in unison.
    Liberty’s heart began to make an unsteady racket.  Oh, dear.  More than a Specimen of Masculine Splendor, this one was going to be a Challenge.
    She’d never been able to resist a Challenge.
    They both turned then, at a cry of feminine distress.  Felicity had passed them by and was fluttering with concern over the other, paler gentleman.  He, in turn, held her hand and smiled down on her, speaking softly. 
    It wasn’t him, then.  Her Specimen was not Felicity’s gentleman of fine airs.
    As one, Liberty and the other man turned back toward each other.  “Who are you?” they asked, together again. 
     
    Brodham took a step back, away from the pretty little bundle of liveliness—and guile, if her expressive green eyes and his suspicions were correct.
    After so many years of exposure he possessed a finely honed sensitivity for trouble, and this girl oozed it from her pores.  A glittering, sparkling sort of trouble, to be sure, it hovered about her like a cloud of fairy dust—and made her all the more dangerous.
    “Simon Lansing, Viscount Brodham, at your service.”  He glanced over to Peter and the other girl.  “I’d wait for a more formal introduction, but it might be best to let them have their few moments.  Especially as they are likely to be their last.”
    She dipped, her curtsy abrupt and her smile fixed.  “Miss Liberty Baylis.”
    She paused, presumably at his expression, and sighed.  “Yes.  Liberty.  I know it is a silly name, but it’s the one I’ve been saddled with and I strive to make the best of it.” 
    “Very wise,” he murmured.
    “Well.  It is a pleasure, my lord.  But why must these be their last moments?  Why would they not have more, now that they’ve found each other at last?”
    He looked over again.  Peter’s young lady was lovely—and staring at his nephew like a love struck mooncalf.  “Ah, but who is it that Mr. Gardiner has found?  Who is her family and why have they allowed her to court such spectacle?” 
    “I think spectacle is rather a harsh word, sir.  There’s hardly anyone here.  This barely qualifies as a fuss.”  She smiled.  “And what is a little fuss in the name of love?”
    He raised a brow.
    She sighed.  “She is Miss Felicity Carmichael, my lord, daughter of Baron Gosforth.  And I’m afraid she cooked up her little scheme all on her own.  It seems her family knew nothing of it.”
    He lifted a shoulder.  “At least she has some claim of nobility, although the whole situation still does not speak well of whoever has had the charge of her.”
    A corner of her mouth turned up.  “As much as it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord, I do confess to an impatience to meet Mr. Gardiner.  It appears he is a man of intellect and a great deal of understanding.”
    As opposed to him?  She was as cheeky as she was curvy