Read Online The Famous Heroine/The Plumed Bonnet by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Balogh
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commending her on the jolly good show of her heroism in the little Henry incident. Two of the gentlemen she had danced with last evening—Mr. Corsham and Mr. Pandry—rode up beside her and engaged her in conversation while Lord Francis chatted with other people. Mr. Corsham remarked with a smirk that now he knew the identity of the gentleman with whom she had told him earlier she was engaged to drive, he would likely slap a glove in the face of Lord Francis the next time he saw him alone. Mr. Pandry asked her if she was to attend a certain ball next week and hoped she would reserve a set for him.
It was all very flattering. So were the particular attentions of two or three gentlemen to whom Lord Francis presented her as the heroine they must have heard of by now, and daughter of the Mr. Downes who had recently purchased and rebuilt Mobley Abbey near Bristol. Cora had not even realized that Lord Francis knew those facts himself.
She was enjoying herself immensely.
But as usually happened, her mind wandered from the here and now after some time. There were just too many people at whom to smile and nod, too many names to remember, and too many faces to which to have to attach those names in the future. She withdrew a little into herself, became more of a spectator than a participant.
It was very clear that a number of people had come to the park neither to take the air nor to converse. Some had come merely to be seen and admired. The lady in pink, for example, who was walking her dogs, four tiny poodles, each on the end of a different-colored silk leash. An insignificant little maid moved along slightly behind her mistress. The pink plumes in the lady’s pink bonnet must be at least four feet high, Cora thought. Her mind was occasionally prone to exaggerate. And she carried herself with great dignity, a proud, half contemptuous smile on her lips. The dogs were for picturesque effect, Cora decided. But poor little things—it had not been the wisest idea in the world to bring them into such a crush. They were in considerable danger of being trodden upon.
And then there was the gentleman in green and buff, who was riding a magnificent black horse, which was far too spirited for the crowded circumstances. He was a very proud and haughty gentleman too, Cora thought. He had a decidedly prominent nose but no chin at all. He had a quite fascinating profile.
They fancied each other, Cora suddenly realized. The lady was lifting her chin and her bosom and was tugging on the leashes entirely for the chinless gentleman’s benefit, and he was prancing on his black horse for hers.
How very, very amusing. If only Lord Francis were not engaged in conversation with an elderly lady and gentleman who had finished congratulating her and were tackling the weather with him, she would be ableto point out the scene to him. He would be entertained by it, she was sure.
But as the two approached each other, Cora became aware of something else. The trotting poodles and the prancing black were soon going to be trying to occupy the exact same spot of land. It did not take a vivid imagination to guess which animals were going to have the worst of it. There were going to be a couple of squashed poodles at the very least.
“Oh,” she said in great agitation just as Lord Francis and the elderly couple took their leave of each other and he turned to her. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear.”
There was time neither to explain the situation to him nor to shout out a warning, though she did the latter anyway. But at the same moment she hurled herself over the side of Lord Francis’s high-perch phaeton.
D URING WHAT HAD remained of the morning after his ride and his nonbreakfast, Lord Francis had sat in White’s, reading the papers and conversing with various acquaintances. Actually he had maneuvered the latter activity so that he spoke with the gentlemen he wished to speak with. It had not been difficult to steer the conversation to last evening’s ball and
It was all very flattering. So were the particular attentions of two or three gentlemen to whom Lord Francis presented her as the heroine they must have heard of by now, and daughter of the Mr. Downes who had recently purchased and rebuilt Mobley Abbey near Bristol. Cora had not even realized that Lord Francis knew those facts himself.
She was enjoying herself immensely.
But as usually happened, her mind wandered from the here and now after some time. There were just too many people at whom to smile and nod, too many names to remember, and too many faces to which to have to attach those names in the future. She withdrew a little into herself, became more of a spectator than a participant.
It was very clear that a number of people had come to the park neither to take the air nor to converse. Some had come merely to be seen and admired. The lady in pink, for example, who was walking her dogs, four tiny poodles, each on the end of a different-colored silk leash. An insignificant little maid moved along slightly behind her mistress. The pink plumes in the lady’s pink bonnet must be at least four feet high, Cora thought. Her mind was occasionally prone to exaggerate. And she carried herself with great dignity, a proud, half contemptuous smile on her lips. The dogs were for picturesque effect, Cora decided. But poor little things—it had not been the wisest idea in the world to bring them into such a crush. They were in considerable danger of being trodden upon.
And then there was the gentleman in green and buff, who was riding a magnificent black horse, which was far too spirited for the crowded circumstances. He was a very proud and haughty gentleman too, Cora thought. He had a decidedly prominent nose but no chin at all. He had a quite fascinating profile.
They fancied each other, Cora suddenly realized. The lady was lifting her chin and her bosom and was tugging on the leashes entirely for the chinless gentleman’s benefit, and he was prancing on his black horse for hers.
How very, very amusing. If only Lord Francis were not engaged in conversation with an elderly lady and gentleman who had finished congratulating her and were tackling the weather with him, she would be ableto point out the scene to him. He would be entertained by it, she was sure.
But as the two approached each other, Cora became aware of something else. The trotting poodles and the prancing black were soon going to be trying to occupy the exact same spot of land. It did not take a vivid imagination to guess which animals were going to have the worst of it. There were going to be a couple of squashed poodles at the very least.
“Oh,” she said in great agitation just as Lord Francis and the elderly couple took their leave of each other and he turned to her. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear.”
There was time neither to explain the situation to him nor to shout out a warning, though she did the latter anyway. But at the same moment she hurled herself over the side of Lord Francis’s high-perch phaeton.
D URING WHAT HAD remained of the morning after his ride and his nonbreakfast, Lord Francis had sat in White’s, reading the papers and conversing with various acquaintances. Actually he had maneuvered the latter activity so that he spoke with the gentlemen he wished to speak with. It had not been difficult to steer the conversation to last evening’s ball and
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