A Match of Hearts: A Regency Romance by Hilary Gilman Page B

realise it. I was
very angry.’
    She clasped her hands in her lap,
remembering how she had berated him like a fishwife and how he had flung
himself off his horse and fallen on his knees before her.
    ‘I will tell you just how it was,’ she
said.
     

 
Eleven
    Eight Years Earlier
     
    He
held the little dog up like an offering and bowed his head. But she knew he was
laughing at her. She snatched the puppy from his hands and cuddled him to her
breast, kissing the little black nose.
    ‘You have no right to bring a fierce
brute like him into the Park. What if it had been a child he attacked?’
    ‘ He is a she . Bess would
never hurt a child. Look at her.’ And, indeed, the big dog was now lying
quietly beside her master, her tongue hanging out as she panted, tired after
all that enjoyable exercise.
    ‘Oh, well, thank you for rescuing Button,
in any event. Even if your Bess did not mean to harm him, he could have been
killed running in front of your horse as he did.’ She smiled and held out her
hand. ‘I really am very grateful.’
    He stood, bent over her hand, and kissed
it. ‘Demonstrate your gratitude by allowing me to walk with you a little.’
Without waiting for her answer, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm,
and they walked on—he leading the big chestnut and followed by faithful Bess, she
meekly pulling Button by the leash.
    Zanthe tumbled head over heels in love
that morning, and Launceston, for all his worldly knowledge and sophistication,
soon made it clear that he was just as deeply in love with her.
    He had, however, a reputation as a
dangerous blade. The tale of his losses spread among the gentlemen in the clubs,
and they shook their heads to see a promising young man going to the devil.
Careful Mamas forbade their daughters to stand up with him at Almacks, for he was
known to be a desperate flirt, and more than one young lady had suffered a
decline upon his account.
    But Launceston did not flirt with
Zanthe. From the first, there was such a bond between them that flirtation
would have seemed cheap and rather pointless. Every fine morning, Zanthe took
Button for his walk and, by seeming chance, she encountered the Viscount on her
way to Green Park, or Kensington Gardens, or any other patch of green where
they might talk of everything under the sun, oblivious to the knowing glances
that followed them.
    Lady Forester, an indolent and stupid
woman, was a very bad chaperone, as it was her practice to retire to the card
room whenever she accompanied Zanthe to a ball or assembly and remain there all
night. And so, for one glorious month, Zanthe waltzed in his arms unchecked,
and upon her lovely face, there was such a glow of happiness as rendered her
beauty dazzling.
    ‘Who is that young lady?’ demanded Lord
Brookenby of his host, having returned to Town after an absence of some months.
    The Earl of Stockport, whose ball it
was, glanced across the room to where Zanthe was seated, sipping lemonade, and
laughing at something an admirer had said to her. ‘Oh, that is Zanthe Sidney,
Rothmere’s daughter. Lovely creature, ain’t she?’
    ‘Rothmere? Oh, you mean the
antiquarian?’
    ‘That’s it; eccentric fellow. Married a
Greek lady, or perhaps she is Turkish, something outlandish at all events. But
she was a beauty, too, mind.’
    ‘Will you present me?’
    His host cocked a knowing eye. ‘Better
watch out, Robert, my boy. You’re at the dangerous age. Won’t do to be losing
your head over a pretty face. Besides, the on dit is that she and
Launceston will make a match of it.’
    ‘Launceston? I have heard his pockets
are all to let.’
    ‘Oh, the girl don’t give a fig for
that.’
    ‘No, but her father might.’
    A few minutes later, Zanthe was
confronted by her host and a tall, distinguished gentleman of perhaps
five-and-forty. ‘Allow me to present Lord Brookenby, who very much desires to
be acquainted with you.’
    Zanthe stood, smiled, and dropped a
polite curtsy. She held out