Pride and Retribution Read Online Free Page B

Rufus Hastings, our recently deceased Ambassador to India and her uncle is Rupert Hastings, the Earl of Bassett. Her brother Robert will inherit the title when Rupert dies, so I would say she has probably been in demand during her first season.’ She beamed a smile at him. ‘They are intimately connected with the King’s family. The Hastings’ have been connected with the House of Hanover for a couple of centuries and at least one of them always marries into the royal blood line.’ She smiled brightly. ‘You have royal blood do you not?’
    ‘We do.’ Wilfred sighed again. ‘Are you advocating that I ask her to marry me?’ he asked in shock.
    ‘Well, it’s something to think about. Doesn’t love usually lead to marriage?’ Harriet asked with her tongue firmly in her cheek.
    ‘Not for a rake of my stature.’ He sighed and poured more tea.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter One  
     
    Early autumn 1812
     
    It was a very balmy day with a gentle breeze and the sunshine was warm, making it feel like spring. Miss Lucille Hastings stood at the top of The Parade and watched the bustle of people making their way down the hill towards the Pump Rooms. There was a veritable kaleidoscope of colours from the fashions on display and not all of them were women. She saw two very colourful gentlemen, one in a lavender silk jacket with white silk britches and the other in a bright blue silk jacket with white silk britches. Both had tall hats to match their jackets, black shiny shoes with diamond encrusted buckles and swung silver tipped canes in unison, as if they were on a military parade. Lucy thought they looked like a couple of strutting peacocks!
    Where she was standing, right on the corner of Clarendon Avenue, gave her an unparalleled view of The Parade. The coaches that moved incessantly, like a restless tide, rattled over the cobbles and the air was filled with the neighing of the horses and the strident calls of the coachmen, as they tried to control their charges.
    Suddenly she heard the clatter of hooves and looked behind her as a ducal carriage raced along Clarendon Avenue, the family crest displayed ostentatiously on the side. It was almost as brightly coloured as the surrounding vista.
    ‘Is this your first visit to Leamington Priors, Miss Hastings?’ the nasally voice of her most recent suitor invaded her thoughts and she turned her face towards the bustling fop that was standing beside her and extending his arm. She almost raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare. He was dressed in the most outrageously puce pink silk jacket and hat, his lace cravat rippling down his shirt front like a waterfall to match a brilliant white brocade waistcoat buttoned over his bulging midriff, this was accompanied by white silk britches, stockings and black shiny dancing slippers with diamond encrusted buckles. I wonder whether it’s some kind of new uniform for fops. She thought as she continued with her appraisal. His hair, what she could see of it, was in a roman style, with tight golden curls ringing a face that was puffy with wine and debauchery. His eyes looked particularly bloodshot around the bright blue irises and the dark circles gave him a rather ailing appearance. She tried not to shudder and wondered why all the men’s fashions were so outrageous, as she eyed the quizzing glass hanging from his jacket front on a golden chain and the fob on his britches that was festooned with minutia.
    ‘Yes, Sir .’ She said politely and laid her kid-gloved hand carefully on his forearm, making sure she gave no indication of preference for his company. He led the way down The Parade; her maid Betsy dogged their footsteps. Lucy was wearing a simple muslin gown sprigged with golden flowers, a matching Spencer in gold satin and a deep straw bonnet decorated with golden ribbons. Once they were moving she removed her hand from his arm and opened up her parasol, making sure it shaded her from the bright sun.
    ‘Of course,