Chapter One
‘In truth, I cannot see what the problem is.’ Jennifer Sinclair put her hands on her hips and favoured her father with a frustrated glare. ‘To stand in the way of progress simply because one dislikes change is quite simply preposterous.’
Such was her annoyance, that the fact she had dared speak so to her father concerning such an emotive subject in polite company went entirely over her head. Not to mention the fact that the person expressing such distaste was a fellow member of the Lords.
Unfortunately the scandalous indrawn breaths of those watching told another story altogether. Nicholas Sinclair gave an inward sigh, recognising that ever more exaggerated tales of his daughter’s wilfulness would undoubtedly be circling around thetonwithin minutes of his guests’ leave taking.
Knowing it was expected, his eyes turned wintery cold. Seeing their flinty depths, Jennifer flinched, finally realising her faux pas. His low, ‘Go to your room, Jennifer,’ was uttered in a tone she’d never heard from him before. Swallowing, she gave a low curtsy, bowed her head and hurried from the room.
As she ran up the stairs, she caught sight of Anthony’s wife through the open door and couldn’t help stifling a chuckle. Georgiana’s horrified expression was a cross between concern for her friend and overwhelming relief that she hadn’t been theone to make a cake of herself in public.
On entering her bedchamber, Jennifer seated herself on the window seat and waited for the summons that would inevitably come. She wasn’t overly worried, although her father’s steely expression didn’t bode well. Still, he’d never yet tossed her over his knee, and she didn’t think that at one and twenty, he was likely to start now. Lifting her feet up onto the seat, she hugged her raised knees.
Jennifer was well aware that she would have tried the patience of a saint over the last eighteen months. She was into her second London season and despite the surfeit of gentlemen vying for her attention, she’d yet to find one who so much as piqued her interest. Sighing, she rested her head on her knees. Her parents had promised not to force her into wedlock. But that didn’t mean they would stand idly by while she blithely turned away suitor after suitor.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be married. The problem was, she wanted a marriage like the one her parents had. And most of the titled gentlemen she’d been introduced to were no more than unlocked cubs. So far up their own nether regions that they had no idea what to do with a woman who actually possessed opinions of her own. She knew that the offers were dwindling - despite her being the daughter of the powerful Duke of Blackmore. She’d even heard mutterings of, ‘what does one expect of the offspring of a vicar’s daughter.’
And now, all she’d done with her outspokenness was make matters worse. For her father, her mother and most definitely herself. Groaning, she dropped her feet to the floor and went to ready herself for bed. Evidently the summons was being postponed until the morrow.
She thought back to her father’s stony expression. Mayhap she did have cause to be worried after all…
∞∞∞
‘I cannot allow her behaviour to go entirely unpunished,’ Nicholas declared wearily after the last of their guests had departed. ‘At the very least, she will have to return to Blackmore for the remainder of the season.’
‘I know.’ Grace gave a tired sigh of her own. ‘In many ways, we only have ourselves to blame. She has grown up in an uncommon household. But Jennifer will never bow to a man, and in truth, I would not wish her to have to.’
‘Then she will remain unwed,’ Nicholas retorted.
‘I have seven sisters who share the same characteristics as our daughter, and they have succeeded in finding men who value their independence,’ Grace responded tartly.
‘Well, naturally she gets her wayward traits from her aunts,’ Nicholas countered drily, ‘since her mother has always been the epitome of a dutiful wife.’
Grace chuckled. ‘I may have been in awe of your bad temper when we first wed, but I soon realised you are eminently persuadable given the correct encouragement.’
‘I’ll have you know my temper is legendary amongst my peers.’ Nicholas gave a low groan as his wife settled herself on his lap.
‘They don’t know you like I do,’ she murmured, bending down to kiss him.
‘My counsel is valued above most others.’
‘Unquestionably.’ She nuzzled into his neck.
‘My statesmanship is universally acknowledged by all who know me.’ His voice had turned a little hoarse.
‘Stiff-rumped,’ she agreed, blowing gently into his ear.
A sudden loud knock had them both springing apart like guilty adolescents. Grace hurriedly climbed to her feet just as the door began to open. Seconds later, their eldest son, Peter stuck his head through the gap. ‘Am I interrupting anything?’ he grinned.
At three and twenty, Peter was fast becoming his father’s double, and as he stepped through the door, Grace caught her breath. It was like looking at her husband over twenty years earlier. Without the scowl admittedly.
‘When did you get here, dearest?’ she asked as Peter raised her hand to his lips.
‘About half an hour ago and from the gossip below stairs, it seems my arrival is not a moment too soon.’
‘You know it’s not necessary to listen to kitchen gossip to discover the latest catastrophe,’ Nicholas commented drily. ‘You could simply ask us. We keep no secrets.’
‘And where would the fun in that be?’ Peter retorted, giving his father a low bow. Nicholas shook his head and chuckled. Then stepping forward, he enfolded his eldest son in a tight hug.
