The Rakehell Regency(298)

The thought filled her with such alarm she bolted up the stairs, and locked her door behind her. Good Lord, how on earth had this happened? She, who could have the pick of a dozen fine gentlemen, had lost her heart completely to a simple country parson?



Well, not so simple, she had to admit, thinking of his education and intelligence, and his impeccable manners. His dress was not always quite the latest mode, but he was tall, well built, his physique magnificent. He was handsome, so much so as to turn heads wherever he went. His conversation was always most interesting, his company highly sought after. So where was the objection?



No fortune for one, she began to list, thinking of her Aunt Susan's hopes for a 'good' match for her. No title, no real home of his own, only a modest living, and that dependent upon the largesse of his friend the Duke.



On the other hand, he had few bad habits. He was not the stereotypical country parson running with the hounds, or prowling after young ladies of good fortune. He had never led her to believe he was only interested in her money; quite the opposite in fact.



She sighed as she began to undress. In fact, he had never indicated any romantic interest in her at all. Was he obligated elsewhere? Or just too staid and sober to marry?



But when she was in his company, she found him highly entertaining. So did his friends, for they often laughed and joked together. He just did not behave in that manner toward her. Oh, it was all too confusing.



Pamela settled in the bed and blew out the candle. She hated being so at odds with everyone. Especially Jonathan. She knew she would barely get a wink of sleep after the set down he had given her. But the dark soothed her. She had to think decide what to do. She did not want him to be miffed with her. She did not want his anger, nor his cool indifference, to continue.



She had admired him ever since they had met. When exactly that admiration had turned to true love, she had no idea, but now she was sure she loved him, him and no one else. And she was tired of Bath, or at least wasting her time with any other man but him.



So what to do now? she sighed inwardly as she thumped her pillow trying to find some comfort. To take it upon herself to alter the character of their friendship would be to risk everything. To place her heart upon her sleeve, and hope he would not shred it.



On the other hand, what if it was possible for him to return her feelings?



It was a bold thought. It made her giddy just contemplating it. The enormity of caused her to sit up in the bed and re-light the candle. She went to her wardrobe, and looked her clothes over. She was not the wealthiest of all the girls of her set, but she did have a good wardrobe and jewels. Tasteful, but not ostentatious. Modest, but with just that hint of allure, a baring of the shoulder, a flash of ankle.



She went over to the mirror and assessed herself candidly. Thick blond hair, which, whilst fairly straight, positively gleamed like a crown. Once it was curled around her temple, it was perfection itself. A fine forehead and brow, good ears which did not stick out like an elephant's, she reflected, thinking of the poor Clarence girl, and pitying her, for all her fortune was one of the best in the County.



Moving further in her catalogue of her own attributes, she noted the darker color of her brows and lashes, and the lush length of the latter. Blue eyes, tilted slightly upwards in the corners, and like a stormy sea when aroused, her father had always said. But now they were bright and shining with hope.



Her creamy complexion had been assiduously protected by bonnets and enhanced by creams and washing with milk. She had never been prey to the awful spots that some girls and boys developed as they matured into adulthood. High cheekbones, a fine delicate chin, and a pair of well-shaped red lips completed her visage. She had been told several times that they were kissable, but she had thus far never allowed anyone the liberty.



She put her hand to her mouth, and tried to imagine it. A vision of Jonathan standing over her, so tall and proud and handsome with his gray eyes looking at her warmly, instead of censoriously, thrilled her to the core. She could feel her lips tingle and a shiver run down her spine.



She turned back to the wardrobe, and planned her campaign with the thoroughness of an Army general. She knew exactly what to do. She would make Jonathan fall in love with her. She would be witty, intelligent, comport herself well, and in short, prove to him that they would be an excellent match.



Pamela had no illusions. It would difficult, for many different reasons.



Firstly, she had to get him to notice her as a woman, without being too obvious. Secondly, she had to prove to him that she would make a good vicar's wife, which would be no mean feat considering how selfish she had always been, and how badly she had behaved since she had been in Bath.