Beggarmaid

Lesley-Anne McLeod

Description

Lady Iphigenia Brierley is trapped by a poverty that she must conceal from the beau monde. She lives on the fringes of society, satisfying her hunger at the ton parties to which she is invited and gambling to obtain money for clothing. The Marquess of Wessington is wealthy beyond her imagining, and has a respected and admired place in society. His return to London from travels abroad coincides with a time of crisis in her pitiable family. He offers himself first as her friend, then as her rescuer. Finally, he asks for her hand in marriage. But the question to which Genia requires an answer is...why?

Sujets

• Historical romance

Informations

• Publié par: Uncial Press
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 0001
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781601740021
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE BEGGARMAID
 
A Regency Romance
By
Lesley-Anne McLeod
 
 
Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon 2007
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein areproducts of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed asreal. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living ordead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Lesley-Anne McLeod
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-002-1 ISBN 10: 1-60174-002-6
Cover art and design by Cait Bens
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of thiswork in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means nowknown or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author orpublisher.
Published by Uncial Press, an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
 
To Cait, my first reader, editor, reviewer, and wonderful coverartist.
Thank you, dearest daughter.
* * * *
AUTHOR'S NOTE
King Cophetua was a legendary, very wealthy king of Africa who loved a penniless maiden namedZenelophon. They were married, lived long and happily, and were much mourned at the end of theirlives.
Their story is told in a ballad called "King Cophetua and the Beggarmaid", which is printed inBishop Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry . The tale of King Cophetua is mentioned twice inShakespeare's plays.
CHAPTER ONE
Lady Hanwood's May Day Ball would be afterwards accounted one of the most successful of theLondon Season; there could be no doubt of it. It was still early in the evening and already the over-warmreception rooms were crowded. Candles, shirt points and flowers would all droop within the hour. The aircould grow only more stale unless someone risked opening one of the many classically-drapedwindows.
But all the beau monde was present, and it had been shaken from its customary ennui, for the Marquess of Wessington was in attendance. He had only recently returned toEngland from abroad, and any hostess who could tempt him to attend at her ball would receive theaccolades of her peers. Indeed it was noticed already that Lady Hanwood was more than usuallycomplacent.
Wessington's progress through the crowded rooms was necessarily slow, as every few paces anold friend hailed him on his reappearance in London. He was recognized by everyone, and a murmur ofexcitement was spreading through Lady Hanwood's reception chambers.
Wessington paused several times to converse. Shortly after his arrival, he had been joined by theaging Earl of Elmsall, a man with whom he had no more than nodding acquaintance and nothing incommon. He was beginning to tire of his companion, who had insisted that he must make Wessingtonknown to his daughter. If she at all favoured her father, he had little interest in meeting her. He was politeto the older man, his late father's contemporary, only out of courtesy and a slight curiosity.
The earl was single-minded and querulous. He tugged the marquess' superbly tailored sleevefrom time to time and urged him along to the ballroom. Suddenly he stopped his erratic progress and spoketo a whip-thin, foppish young man dressed in a satin coat and velvet breeches. "Austin? Where's yoursister, eh?"
"Last I saw her, sir, she was besieged in the ball-room, but that was some time since. "
It seemed to Wessington that the young man surveyed his parent with embarrasseddisapprobation, and spoke with respect out of habit rather than conviction. "I believe I have not had thepleasure?" he said, prodding Elmsall to an introduction.
The abstracted earl started and mumbled, "Oh, aye, to be sure. This is my younger son, Austin.Not a bad lad. This is the Marquess of Wessington, Austin; make your bow."
Wessington could understand the resentment that burned in the young man's eyes as he obeyedhis parent. Austin Brierley's thoughts were all too obvious. He was thinking, as he examined the marquess'garb, that his shirt points, which his best friend had assured him were all the crack, were indeed too high.Then it was evident that he remembered that Wessington was, in the vulgar parlance, a swell. He hadobviously been informed that the marquess was a paragon, neither a dandy nor a Corinthian, but withelements of each and surpassing both. Never mind that Wessington had been sojourning in somegodforsaken place abroad for the past two years. Austin Brierley clearly knew very well that a young manbent on cutting a dash in town could do much worse than emulate the marquess.
Wessington smiled his understanding at young Brierley, but nonetheless there was a mocking curlto his lip. He remembered his own father and his reactions to his father's nonpareil friends. Hemust be getting old if he called forth such responses from younger men.
The earl was pushing on. "Come along, Wessington, if we are to find my girl. She is never longin one place."
The marquess held his temper in check and followed the older man. He would devote only fivemore minutes to this search, he vowed.
On the threshold of the ballroom, which had been admirably decorated with white India muslinin the style of a tent, and blazed with wax lights, Wessington insisted on pause. He removed his sleevefrom the earl's moist grasp with every appearance of affability, though his irritation was growing.
Elmsall peered about short-sightedly, seeking out his daughter. "There she is!" He gesturedacross the room to a cluster of gentlemen, young and old.
Sets were forming for the next dance, but conversation held sway while heads turned as themarquess was recognized.
"Allow me to find our way," Wessington said. He hoped to speed their progress now that theirgoal was in view. With the earl following, he stepped into the crush. With a carefully bestowed smile here,and avoidance of a talkative person there, they crossed the room more quickly than had seemed possible.With equal ease, they breached the cluster of gentlemen, and reached its centre.
With their appearance, the clamour of the group stilled. The lady at its core whirled to confrontthe newcomers who had had such an effect. For a moment she stood quite silent, disregarding her father,and frankly surveying the unknown gentleman with him.
The marquess raised a quizzical brow at the study, but returned it quite as interestedly. Elmsall'sdaughter was not above middle height, but something in her carriage and manner gave her slender,rounded form added inches. She wore a gown of pure white, but Wessington noted that though its stylewas simple, it appeared somewhat less than maidenly. It was fashioned of a fluid silk which, from its bellefleur -tinted ribbon under her bosom, clung subtly to every line of her beautiful form. Shewore no jewels, but a single camellia adorned and partially concealed the smooth flesh revealed by her décolletage . Her hair was a deep, burnished copper hue and shone with striking beauty inlustrous curls from a knot on the crown of her shapely head. A perfectly oval, creamy-skinned face washighlighted by remarkable leaf-green eyes, arched by sleek, dark copper brows.
"Genia, a word with you," her father grunted.
The young lady's slipper-shod toe tapped with her irritation.
Then abruptly it halted as Wessington engaged her with a challenging glance.
Lady Iphigenia Brierley's eyes narrowed with speculation as she examined the newcomer, and herchin lifted in a corresponding challenge.
The gentleman was very tall, and broad-shouldered, and was elegantly attired in a dark corbeau coloured coat and black breeches. His hair was as black as the coals in the nearby grate,and his eyes were so dark as to appear black also. His countenance was quite remarkably handsome, butcarried more than a hint of strength, and unlike the winter pale dandies of the ballroom, his skin was aneven sun-warmed brown.
Looking around at her circle of admirers, she said, "My dear papa wishes to speak with me, soyou must all go away now. But mind, if it is a dressing-down he wishes to administer, I shall expect to berescued."
Disappointed, but laughing, the gentlemen--youths, roués, and those of the firstrespectability--drifted away to the neglected damsels of the ballroom.
"Well, Papa?" she asked. She was aware that they were watched avidly by half the occupants ofthe chamber.
Her father ignored the peremptory question.
"Wessington, this is my daughter Iphigenia. Genia, the Marquess of Wessington."
Genia absorbed the name even as she dropped a slight curtsey. She maintained a studiouslydisinterested expression, but her interest was piqued.
So this was the famous Wessington. His name was legend, and she had heard that he had a facelike the Greek gods of Lord Elgin's marbles. So he had, she thought, if a god might have a sardonic lift to hisbrows and a harsh line of lip.
Two years previous, the marquess had forsaken a position at the pinnacle of society, and haddisappeared to the lands wild and exotic of the near and mid East. Prior to his departure there was no onein the London ton , not even the most newly presented damsel, to whom his name was unfamiliar.Maidens were warned to put no stock in his charming, unexceptionable flattery. Mamas tried to hold firmagainst his handsome face and fine figure. Young men attempted to emulate his deeds, and their eldersenvied his accomplishments and his fortune. He was exciting and unpredictable, and even in his absence,his name had not been forgotten. Two years of newly graduated schoolroom misses and blossoming pinkswaited to behold the truth of the tales about Wessington.
"I am honoured," she murmured. She kept her voice light and her words perfunctory. She had nointention of throwing out lures to the famous marquess.
"Why do I doubt your sincerity?" he quizzed her and smiled.
His smile held a devastating charm. Genia lifted a brow and laughed at this unusual attack.Elmsall, apparently satisfied that he had accomplished his objective, wandered off to seek more c