The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness
“Patience did not feel like a bride, so it mattered little to her that she did not look the part. At least her hair, which must have been in a frightful mess, was as hidden by her bonnet as her dress was by her cloak.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, as he handed her into his curricle. “I dismissed your carriage. Would you like to drive or shall I?”
Patience pulled the fur rug over her knees. “I wouldn’t know the way to the church.”
“Perhaps on the way back,” he suggested lightly.
“Perhaps,” she answered, marveling at his cheerful mood.
Despite the gloomy sky overhung with dark clouds, Max seemed pleased with the world and everything in it, especially her. Most especially her. It was as if nothing unpleasant had taken place at all. As he drove, he kept picking up her hand and kissing it, to keep it warm, he said, for she had left the house without her gloves.
“This job of mine,” he said suddenly. “Whatever it is, it will have to be lucrative. I’ve acquired a taste for the finer things in life.
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
7.67 / 10
8 / 10
User Reviews: