Read Online And Then Comes Marriage by Celeste Bradley - Free Book Online
Authors: Celeste Bradley
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discerning, pet. The loss is mine, for you’re a sumptuous morsel indeed. I suppose you’ll be wanting to go back to my brother, then?”
“Glory, no!” Dilly rolled her eyes. “He’s worse than you, that one. He’s got an edge on him like a razor tonight.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “I think he got worked up by some sweet thing he can’t properly get his hands on. Can’t get his mind off her, either. Lily’s about to toss him back. She can’t do a thing with him.”
“Oh-ho!” Poll twisted his neck to get a glimpse of Cas in the throng. He saw his twin with Lily, standing in a corner near one of the feast tables … talking .
Cas didn’t talk to women. Talking was Poll’s gambit. Cas didn’t need to do much more than bestow his famous cynical, world-weary smile to get a woman to drop everything—including her pantalets—on a hopeless quest to help him regain his faith in love, beauty, humanity, and so forth.
It worked every time. Which meant that this time, Cas wasn’t even bothering.
“I wonder who she is.” Poll thought back over the past few weeks. He’d been so busy with Miranda that he’d scarcely seen Cas except when they were working on the steam engine. “She must be someone I haven’t met yet.”
Dilly snorted. “She must be a goddess on a mountaintop, for Lily’s the zestiest bit in the city and your brother’s not so much as given her a good groping.”
Poll, feeling guilty, turned to her at once. “You’re a vastly zesty bit, Dills.”
She considered him for a moment. “And yet, here I stand, ungroped as well.” She went up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell old Blythe that we had a rouser, we did.”
“You’re a true lady, Miss Daffodil,” Poll said gratefully.
She parted from him with a little wave of her fingers and a bit of extra wiggle in her walk, just to show him what he was missing. Poll, his head tilted, watched with great appreciation. The view was magnificent. By God, just because he was courting Miranda didn’t mean he was dead!
Yet, attending an orgy without lust was rather like going fishing without a pole. He might as well be one of the elderly codgers sitting on the sidelines, smoking Mrs. Blythe’s excellent cigars and drinking Mrs. Blythe’s excellent whiskey, talking politics in a room full of nearly naked girls.
Poll shuddered. Never.
Still, there wasn’t much else to do, so he asked for his coat and hat from a disbelieving chucker-out—er, footman—who regarded him pityingly as he showed Poll the door.
Poll only smiled, thinking of Miranda’s sweet lips.
* * *
Cas left the captivating Lily behind with mingled regret and relief. Regret that he walked away from what likely would have been one of the more memorable nights of his life. Relief that he might no longer be distracted from thoughts of his mystery woman.
Miranda Talbot.
Sedate widow. Breathless temptress.
Her house, while of good address and well kept, was oddly a bit on the elder-auntie side of decor.
Young. Old-fashioned.
Lovely. Lackluster.
Demure. Bold.
Prim. Sensual.
It must be the conflicting impressions that made her linger so in his mind. He’d had prettier women—although delicate Miranda had a certain quality.
Cas felt like knocking himself on the back of the head as he trotted down the steps of Mrs. Blythe’s House of Pleasure and away—away from Lily, away from certain pleasure, away from drink and dance and carousel—to where?
Or to whom?
The time was well past three in the morning. He could hardly call upon the pretty widow at this late hour. In fact, he’d not actually been invited to call again at all.
He stopped in the middle of the walk, frowning in consternation. He’d walked out on her. What if she didn’t like him anymore?
God, I sound like a girl. He shuddered. Such thoughts were mad, anyway. Unfinished business, that was all.
So finish it.
If he caught a hack, he
“Glory, no!” Dilly rolled her eyes. “He’s worse than you, that one. He’s got an edge on him like a razor tonight.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “I think he got worked up by some sweet thing he can’t properly get his hands on. Can’t get his mind off her, either. Lily’s about to toss him back. She can’t do a thing with him.”
“Oh-ho!” Poll twisted his neck to get a glimpse of Cas in the throng. He saw his twin with Lily, standing in a corner near one of the feast tables … talking .
Cas didn’t talk to women. Talking was Poll’s gambit. Cas didn’t need to do much more than bestow his famous cynical, world-weary smile to get a woman to drop everything—including her pantalets—on a hopeless quest to help him regain his faith in love, beauty, humanity, and so forth.
It worked every time. Which meant that this time, Cas wasn’t even bothering.
“I wonder who she is.” Poll thought back over the past few weeks. He’d been so busy with Miranda that he’d scarcely seen Cas except when they were working on the steam engine. “She must be someone I haven’t met yet.”
Dilly snorted. “She must be a goddess on a mountaintop, for Lily’s the zestiest bit in the city and your brother’s not so much as given her a good groping.”
Poll, feeling guilty, turned to her at once. “You’re a vastly zesty bit, Dills.”
She considered him for a moment. “And yet, here I stand, ungroped as well.” She went up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell old Blythe that we had a rouser, we did.”
“You’re a true lady, Miss Daffodil,” Poll said gratefully.
She parted from him with a little wave of her fingers and a bit of extra wiggle in her walk, just to show him what he was missing. Poll, his head tilted, watched with great appreciation. The view was magnificent. By God, just because he was courting Miranda didn’t mean he was dead!
Yet, attending an orgy without lust was rather like going fishing without a pole. He might as well be one of the elderly codgers sitting on the sidelines, smoking Mrs. Blythe’s excellent cigars and drinking Mrs. Blythe’s excellent whiskey, talking politics in a room full of nearly naked girls.
Poll shuddered. Never.
Still, there wasn’t much else to do, so he asked for his coat and hat from a disbelieving chucker-out—er, footman—who regarded him pityingly as he showed Poll the door.
Poll only smiled, thinking of Miranda’s sweet lips.
* * *
Cas left the captivating Lily behind with mingled regret and relief. Regret that he walked away from what likely would have been one of the more memorable nights of his life. Relief that he might no longer be distracted from thoughts of his mystery woman.
Miranda Talbot.
Sedate widow. Breathless temptress.
Her house, while of good address and well kept, was oddly a bit on the elder-auntie side of decor.
Young. Old-fashioned.
Lovely. Lackluster.
Demure. Bold.
Prim. Sensual.
It must be the conflicting impressions that made her linger so in his mind. He’d had prettier women—although delicate Miranda had a certain quality.
Cas felt like knocking himself on the back of the head as he trotted down the steps of Mrs. Blythe’s House of Pleasure and away—away from Lily, away from certain pleasure, away from drink and dance and carousel—to where?
Or to whom?
The time was well past three in the morning. He could hardly call upon the pretty widow at this late hour. In fact, he’d not actually been invited to call again at all.
He stopped in the middle of the walk, frowning in consternation. He’d walked out on her. What if she didn’t like him anymore?
God, I sound like a girl. He shuddered. Such thoughts were mad, anyway. Unfinished business, that was all.
So finish it.
If he caught a hack, he
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