Read Miss Lacey's Last Fling (A Regency Romance) for Free Online Page B

voice wrapped around her like thick velvet. No wonder the man was notorious. He was a spellbinder, drawing one in with his sumptuous voice and his liquid brown eyes. What would it be like to succumb to his spell? Should she try? She stifled a giggle at the very notion of plain Rosie Lacey as an object of seduction, much less succumbing to it. Ursula would faint dead away on the spot.
    Heavens, but she was having a good time as Rosalind! If things had turned out differently, she might have had a successful career on the stage.
    "Thank you, Mr. Davenant," she said in a husky whisper she sincerely hoped sounded provocative and not sickly. "That is a very pretty compliment."
    "Call me Max," he said in that velvety voice. "I'm practically family, you know."
    "Then you must call me Rosi—Rosalind."
    '"Let no fair be kept in mind, but the fair of Rosalind.' I trust this fair Rosalind need not resort to disguise to win her heart's desire."
    Rosie almost gasped at his words. Did he know she merely played a part?
    "Fanny must be pleased," he went on, oblivious to her momentary uneasiness. "You were quite the hit this evening."
    Rosie pulled herself together and allowed Rosalind to take charge once again. "Yes, I am sure my aunt was pleased that people were so friendly to her niece."
    "That is not what I meant."
    "Oh?"
    "By George, but you do know how to play the innocent, don't you? It is no wonder you have every buck and beau dangling after you. And that is the point, is it not? To bring one of them up to scratch?"
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "The Marriage Mart, my dear. You are older than the other young chits, to be sure, but you do have a way about you. Since we are almost family, I am sure you will not mind such frank speaking. In any case, I cannot imagine you will have any difficulty finding a husband."
    Rosie's first reaction was to be insulted by his words, her next to be flattered by them, but in the end she found the entire situation hilarious and began to laugh.
    "You do not believe me?" Max asked.
    When she was finally able to speak, she said, "I'm afraid you have it all wrong, Mr. Davenant. Max. In the first place, I do not know how a liaison between my aunt and your father makes us family." His brows rose in surprise at her words. Did he think she did not know? "Unless, of course, you are really my aunt's son and therefore my cousin, though I feel certain Aunt Fanny would have mentioned it. That is, unless it is a great dark secret that she has kept all these years. No, no, that cannot be, for I find it impossible to imagine she would have allowed your Mama to raise her son."
    Now Max was on the verge of laughter, a grin creasing his face and lighting his eyes. "In the second place," she continued, "I am not in search of a husband. I realize most people will have that expectation, but I wish they would not. In fact, I have no intention of ever marrying. That is not why I came to London."
    "Why did you come, then?"
    "To have fun. To enjoy myself. To go to balls and dance all night until my slippers wear out. To go to elegant supper parties and dine on rich food and fine wine. To attend the theater and the opera and philharmonic concerts. To visit museums and galleries and gardens and parks and shops—dear heaven, the shops!—and the Tower and Westminster Abbey and Astley's and Vauxhall and, oh, all sorts of other places I've yet to discover." Her voice rose with excitement, just thinking about all the things she was going to do. "I want to see everything, do everything, to experience everything London has to offer."
    "Odds fish, madam," he said, and placed a limp hand upon his forehead. "I grow dizzy just listening to you. Let us sit down before I collapse with fatigue."
    He led her to a stone bench beside a potted box shrub trimmed to a perfect sphere. When Rosie had seated herself and arranged her skirts, Max sat down beside her. Not too close, she noticed. In fact, he sat as far away as possible without actually teetering