The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,8
But trust me.” With a last glance across the ballroom at Randolph and Mary, Lavinia turned her friend to stroll in the opposite direction. “My seeds are well planted, and all looks set to bloom as it should.” Raising her head, Lavinia smiled. “Which, I must say, I find immensely gratifying. I can’t wait to inform Ryder once the engagement is made.”
“Well, darling, how was your evening?”
Mary glanced at her mother, Louise, seated next to her in the family’s town carriage as it rolled sedately over the cobbles, taking them home. “Useful.” She grimaced. “But, sadly, nothing more.”
Louise smiled, her face lit by a street flare. Reaching out, she patted Mary’s wrist. “Don’t be in such a rush, darling. Your hero will come for you in good time.”
Mary smothered a humph. Glancing down through the gloom, she considered the necklace, specifically the rose quartz pendant that lay nestled between her breasts. Stupid thing. She’d stood beside Randolph for over half an hour and once again . . . nothing. No real connection of any sort, and all he and his friends had wanted to talk about was horses!
There’d been a dearth of frissons of delicious expectation, and an absolute absence of any tightening of her nerves.
And certainly nothing even remotely like the sensations she’d experienced during that exquisite waltz with Ryder.
But she wasn’t so stupid as to imagine that Ryder—he who could so effortlessly evoke said sensations—was her one. He couldn’t possibly be; no female deity would ever pair a lady such as she, who valued being in charge so highly, with a nobleman who, beneath his lazy lion pelt, was nothing less than a lordly dictator.
And that Ryder did incite such feelings in her was neither here nor there; he elicited the same feelings in at least half the female population, if not more.
It was simply his way, his gift as it were, an intrinsic part of him he didn’t even have to think to use.
“Incidentally, I was speaking with your aunts about the final arrangements for the wedding. Amazingly, everything seems to be falling into place perfectly, sufficiently so that the others and I have decided that a few days of peace in the country would be an excellent tonic to set us up to weather the stresses of the big day.” Head back on the squabs, Louise continued, “We’ve decided to seize this moment of relative calm, so we’ll be leaving for Somersham tomorrow and will return three days later. Just enough time to refresh ourselves.”
Turning her head, Louise studied Mary. “You are, of course, welcome to come, but it is the height of the Season and your married sisters and sister-in-law are in town, so if you wish to stay . . . ?”
Mary frowned. She hadn’t got anywhere with Randolph yet. She wasn’t ready to even contemplate that she might be wrong and he might not be her one—perhaps she needed to spend time with him alone, or at least not in a group. “I’d rather stay.” She shifted to face Louise. “And Amanda and Amelia, and Portia, too, attend all the balls I would wish to go to.”
Louise nodded. “I’ll send all three notes when we reach home. Provided they’re willing to act as chaperons, I see no reason you can’t remain and attend all the balls on our calendar.”
“Good.” Facing forward again, Mary turned her mind to evaluating the sort of situations into which she could draw Randolph Cavanaugh in order to reveal his herolike nature. His true nature with respect to her.
Chapter Two
“Have a nice rest and don’t worry about anything!” Mary hugged her mother, then stood back so her older sisters, Amanda and Amelia, could sweep in and plant fond pecks on Louise’s cheeks.
“Never fear.” Stepping back, Amanda cast an affectionate glance at Mary. “We’ll keep her in line.”
Louise laughed and patted both twins’ shoulders. “I know I can rely on you both—and on Portia, too.”
On cue, Portia stepped forward to hug Louise, then Henrietta, who had been in the library with her fiancé, James Glossup, wrestling with the question of where those of his more country-based family who were coming up to town for their wedding should be housed, came hurrying into the front hall, James in tow.
“Good-bye, Mama! Papa!” Henrietta bussed Louise’s cheek, then turned to their father, Arthur, standing beside his wife, to repeat the process. “Have a lovely, restful time.”
Arthur kissed Henrietta back, then released her. He and his brothers had elected to seize the opportunity to