Read Miss Truelove Beckons (Classic Regency Romances Book 12) for Free Online Page A

against the softness of her skin, feeling the warm flood of rosy color mount. “In another minute you will have me believing that it was meant to happen as it did, that young bastard—pardon me, devil—knocking poor Stanley down. I suppose you believe that God has a purpose for us all and that even bad things can have good repercussions.”
    True’s whole body reacted from his careless caress. The touch of his naked hand on her skin, the warmth that pierced her, sent shivers through her body. “I do believe that we are given experiences and meet people for reasons, sometimes. Not all the time of course; but God sees what we need, and tries to help. Whether we are receptive to His help is another matter.”
    Drake pondered her words. It was certainly true that her arrival was helping him cope with a visit he had not looked forward to. He had not known how to break his mother’s heart by telling her that he was not inclined to marry Miss Swinley, or anyone for that matter, especially after he had apparently raised her hopes in that direction with his thoughtless flirtation during the mother and daughter’s last visit, and so he had dreaded this day.
    Thoughts of matrimony raised a question in his mind. He gazed down at the diminutive Miss Becket, thinking what a cuddlesome armful she made, tucked against him in the freshening breeze of late afternoon. “Why have you never married?”
    If she was shocked by his forwardness, she did not show it. “I was engaged some years ago—seven to be exact—to an officer in the Royal Navy. I lost Harry when his ship went down in an engagement. He was never found.”
    There was silence between them. Miss Becket gazed out at the river, and though there might have been a gleam of tears in her eyes, it was quickly conquered, though the blue was still shadowed with remembered pain, softened with the passing of time. She must have loved him deeply to be so affected by the memory after seven years.
    “Seven years is a long time. You have never found his equal since?” He was a cad for prodding her, but he wanted to know. Miss Becket would make an admirable wife for some lucky fellow, and it would be a pity if she wore the willow for her lost love her whole life. She seemed eminently suited to the role of loving life partner.
     
    • • •
     
    “Love is not an everyday occurrence, Lord Drake.” It was an evasion, and True felt a fraud for not revealing that she was even now considering a proposal. His words had pierced the armor she had thrown up around her heart. Was Mr. Bottleby, her current suitor, Harry’s equal? In fortune and future, yes. The curate had gained a living in the north of England that though harsh was a good living. And he had a small private fortune, which Harry never had. That was why they had not married while he was on leave the last time she saw him. Poor Harry had felt the need to make his fortune, and with the war raging had felt sufficient prize money was just a matter of months away, a year at the most. And so although in material goods her suitor was Harry’s superior, Harry had a sweetness, a passion for life, that Mr. Bottleby could not match. Almost to herself, she said, “I have always thought that I would like to wait for love again, before marrying.”
    Her words were like a blow to Drake. He had never thought about waiting for love, or perhaps more accurately had never believed that love was in his future. “I have thought about marrying. My mother would like me to, I know. But I have begun to wonder if it is fair to a young lady to marry, when I don’t really believe in love or any of that other rot that ladies seem to need before they consider themselves properly wooed.” He had intended his words to be humorous, but to his ears it sounded false and bitter.
    Miss Becket opened her mouth to reply, but just then, behind them, footsteps fell on the gravel walk.
    “There you are, you naughty pair!” Arabella’s dulcet voice fluted the