Anne Barbour (30 page)

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of the breeze that sighed through the window, ruffling the curtains. At last, with a little cry, Alison moved once more into the circle of March’s arms.

“Then, I think you had better kiss me again,” she whispered brokenly. “I do not think I am compromised nearly enough.”

It was many moments before Alison was again capable of speech. Somehow, she found herself in March’s lap, with her stained gown in even more disarray than it had been after her escape from Jack Crawford’s curricle. “March!” she gasped tremulously. “We must stop!”

“Um?” murmured March thickly, his lips against the silky skin at the base of her throat. His hands stilled at the point of undoing the last of the buttons that trooped down from her collar. “Oh, my God,” he groaned, raising his head at last.

“I suppose you are right,” he continued, his voice husky. “It would not do for us to be late for Aunt Edith’s party.”

“The dinner party! Oh, good heavens, I had forgotten!”

“And after you have gone to such trouble on it?” An unholy gleam sprang into his eyes. “Aunt will be in alt at the fruition of her plans, I should think. Did you not guess?” he asked, observing the quizzical lift of Alison’s brow. “If I am not very much mistaken, it was her intention from the moment I set foot in Royal Crescent that we would wed.”

Alison uttered a little crow of laughter. “I shouldn’t wonder if you are right. I caught her perusing a display of wedding gowns in
La Belle Assemblée
the other day. She said she was looking ahead to Meg’s nuptials, but she was blushing furiously. Immediately afterward she sat me down for a chronicle of your virtues.”

“You poor dear,” March murmured, gathering her to him again. “It must have taken hours.” Following this statement, of course, March found it necessary to stifle Alison’s laughing protest by the most expedient means at hand. “By the by,” he continued some moments later, lifting his head with reluctance, “do you recall if Aunt’s party is to be graced by the presence of Mrs. Bagjaw?”

“That’s Mrs. Binsham,” said Alison severely. “As a matter of fact, she will indeed be there. Why?”

“I was just thinking, if we tell her our news right away, she should have the word spread about the country inside of a week. Just think of the savings in wedding announcements.”

“I do love a practical man,” whispered Alison, drawing his face to hers once more, and for some time thereafter, the only sound to be heard in the private parlor of the Five Swans was the rustle of the curtains in the spring breeze.

FOR MY CHILDREN:

who have brought such joy to their father and me; and to their wonderful spouses, who have so enriched our family; and to the eminently superior grandchildren they have brought forth.

Jeff and Waty—and Jennifer and Jessica

Kathy—and Jonathan

Chuck and Candy

Bob and Yvonne—and Sommer and Sally

Trish and Leo—and Sam

Barbie

Copyright © 1995 by Barbara Yirka

Originally published by Signet [0451178440]

Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.