The Romance Read Online Free

like himself. The boy will be taught to shoot and hunt and peacock around in fancy clothes and not learn much else.’
    Belinda felt a stab of unease. Had she had any idea of what the love between a woman anda man could really be like, she would have had her dreams of Mannerling tempered by dreams of romance. But Mannerling was her sole love and everything else came second to that. The unease fled. She saw herself standing at the head of the staircase at Mannerling, her husband a shadowy figure at her side, receiving guests. In her mind, the sun always shone and the sky was always blue.
    Both girls expected a lecture from Miss Trumble before they left for the rout, but that lady was strangely absent. Their sister Abigail, Lady Burfield, did visit them and wished them well and then said, ‘Mama is in alt. Evidently you met Saint Clair last night.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Belinda airily. ‘But there were a great number of interesting gentlemen there as well.’
    ‘Gyre was there?’
    ‘Yes, I was introduced to Lord Gyre.’
    ‘Burfield speaks highly of him,’ said Abigail seriously, ‘and you are so very beautiful, Belinda. I hope no silly ideas about Mannerling are going to ruin your prospects. Only look how they nearly ruined mine!’
    Abigail’s own obsession with her old home had brought her to the brink of disgrace and ruin. Her twin, Rachel, was to marry the then owner’s son, Harry Devers, but Rachel had panicked before the wedding and so Abigail had taken her place, only to end up panicking herself and fleeing into the arms of LordBurfield.
    ‘Harry Devers was a monster,’ said Belinda. ‘I shall not make the same mistake, Abigail. Be assured,’ she went on with a limpid look at her elder sister, ‘that Lizzie and I are delighted to be in London and never think of Mannerling at all.’
    Abigail looked at her sharply and then gave a satisfied little nod. ‘Our Miss Trumble was worried about you.’
    ‘Do you go with us this evening?’ asked Lizzie.
    Abigail shook her head. ‘No, Burfield and I are tired of racketing around. We shall have a quiet evening together at home.’
    And Belinda wondered at the calm glow of happiness that emanated from Abigail. How could anyone forget Mannerling so easily?
    *      *      *
    Lord St. Clair fidgeted as he faced his father, Earl Durbridge. ‘So, my boy,’ said the earl, ‘when are you to take up residence at Mannerling?’
    ‘You want me to find a bride,’ said his son patiently, ‘and so I am finding one at the Season, which is where one usually finds such a creature.’
    ‘And whom have you found?’
    ‘Early days, Pa,’ said Lord St. Clair airily. He waved a scented handkerchief in the air andrepeated languidly, ‘Early days.’
    ‘Go to it,’ growled the earl. ‘I am tired of your racketing around. I’ve a demned good mind to disinherit you and put Peregrine in as my heir.’
    ‘Perry’s such a drab little fellow,’ expostulated St. Clair. ‘I saw him in Saint James’s the other day, took one look at his coat, and crossed to the other side of the street.’
    The Honourable Peregrine Vane was St. Clair’s cousin, a serious young man whose sober ways appealed to the earl immensely.
    ‘He’s got a good head on his shoulders,’ growled the earl. ‘You’ve done nothing to put Mannerling in order, so I’ve sent him down there to look the place over.’
    ‘What?’ squawked St. Clair. ‘That’s my place.’
    ‘Then get yourself a bride and show an interest in it.’
    Lord St. Clair chewed a fingernail and eyed his father suspiciously. ‘You wouldn’t really put Perry in my place. Think of the scandal!’
    ‘We’ll see,’ said the earl. ‘Just get a move on and find yourself a bride.’
    *      *      *
    Routs were probably the most inelegant affairs to be held at the London Season. A rout was not deemed a success unless as many people aspossible were crammed into the rooms. It was not the thing to arrive on foot