Pursuing Lord Pascal Read Online Free Page B

pleasing impression. And of course, Sally and Morwenna are
lovely.”
    “They are. But the night belonged to
you.”
    She tugged her hand free—he’d been in no
hurry to release her—and fluttered her fingers in an unexpectedly
dismissive gesture. One might imagine she wasn’t used to
compliments. “You’re too kind. By the way, thank you for your
lovely pink roses.”
    He dipped his head in a brief bow. “I’m glad
you like them.” He searched the room without seeing them. Were they
somewhere else or, God forbid, had she thrown them out? “I called
to see if you’d like to come driving. A lady who has made such a
splash should confirm her conquest by gracing Hyde Park at the
fashionable hour.”
    He’d swear the bewilderment in her eyes was
real—he’d seen enough false modesty in his time to know the
difference. “That’s not until five o’clock.”
    “I hoped you’d give me a chance for some
private conversation first. There’s so much I want to know about
you.”
    “Pascal, good afternoon.” Sally appeared in
the doorway and held out her hand.
    He bowed over it politely, without any
particular urge to lengthen the contact. “Sally, you’re looking
lovely as ever.”
    “Thank you.” Her perceptive green gaze
shifted between him and Lady Mowbray. “You’ve not long missed the
crowd. We’ve had callers all afternoon. Amy has caught society’s
eye.”
    “Twaddle.” Another of those damnably charming
blushes. “Most of the callers were for Meg.”
    Sally leveled a stern glance on her. “No,
most of them were for you.” She paused. “Although I’m delighted
that my niece has her admirers, too.”
    “I’ve invited Lady Mowbray for a run in my
curricle.” He’d deliberately left his call late to avoid tripping
over every fop in London.
    Sally subjected him to another of those
assessing stares. He’d known her for years. They were the same age,
and he’d danced with her at her first ball the year she married the
fabulously wealthy Lord Norwood. “That would be an excellent idea.
The approval of society’s darling will do wonders for Amy’s
cachet.”
    While Amy looked daunted, Pascal gave an
amused snort. “I’m not escorting the lady for the benefit of those
other blockheads. I want to find out more about her.”
    Sally’s eyes narrowed. She would know, even
if Amy Mowbray didn’t, that those words constituted a declaration
of intent. He waited for her to comment, but she merely turned to
Lady Mowbray. “I’ll keep Lord Pascal company while you run upstairs
and fetch your bonnet and pelisse.”
    When they were alone, Sally crossed to fill
two glasses of brandy. She passed him one, took a sip from hers,
then fixed an uncompromising stare upon him. “Amy is my
friend.”
    He arched his eyebrows, enjoying the
unconventional sight of a woman drinking spirits. “Are you warning
me away from her?”
    Sally shrugged and wandered over to look out
the window to where his groom held his fine bay horses. “No. But
I’m saying if you hurt her, I’ll feed your liver to my
foxhounds.”
    “Ouch,” he said mildly. “I’m inviting her for
a drive. We’re joining the fashionable throng in the park. She’ll
enjoy that.”
    “I’m sure she will. Didn’t I hear a rumor
that you were about to offer for the Veivers chit?”
    “You know how inaccurate gossip can be,” he
said lightly, hiding a shudder.
    “She’s rich and pretty.”
    And as stupid as a bale of hay. In fact, in
an intellectual contest, he’d back any bale of hay over Cissie
Veivers. “So is Lady Mowbray.”
    “Just don’t turn Amy’s head.”
    He smiled. “Sally, you make a fine bulldog,
protecting your charges. Your niece is only eighteen and needs you.
Lady Mowbray is old enough to look after herself.”
    To his surprise, Sally didn’t look convinced.
In fact, this whole conversation was surprising. He was considered
a catch. The estates might suffer a temporary cash flow problem,
but the land was good, and