Talk of the Ton

Talk of the Ton
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RUMORS WERE FLYING Her name was on everyone's lips. They were agog to find out what Miss Elizabeth Harley had been doing down at the East India Docks. And in such shocking apparel! Why, her uncle's generosity in giving her a London season had been thrown back in his face.Elizabeth had not meant to sully her good name. All she'd craved was a chance to travel. Andrew Melhurst had come to her rescue when she needed him most, but should she consider marrying him to save her reputation?

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“What are you going to do with me?” Beth asked.

“Oh, do not fret. I have no designs on your person,” he said.

“Then let me go.”

“That, I think, would be considered unchivalrous.”

“No more unchivalrous than holding a lady against her wishes.”

“If the lady has no idea of the danger she is in, then a gentleman has no choice.” He laughed suddenly. “Whatever made you think you could pass yourself off as a boy? A more feminine figure I have yet to meet.” His eyes roamed appreciatively over her as he spoke.

The only slightly masculine thing about her was her cut-down fingernails. He was intrigued by them. “It is a good thing I intervened when I did.”

Talk of the Ton

HarlequinHistorical

MARY NICHOLS

Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, a school secretary, an information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children and four grandchildren.

Talk of the Ton

MARY NICHOLS


TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

The girl, sitting on a rickety chair in the potting shed watching the young man lovingly tend a delicate plant he had been nurturing, wore a pair of breeches tucked into riding boots, a cream-coloured shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a sackcloth apron. Her hair was tucked up beneath a scarf. The clothes were old and a little shabby, but that did not disguise the fact that they were well cut and had once, many years before, been the height of male fashion.

‘I wish I could go plant collecting,’ she said wistfully, watching his deft fingers. They were blunt and dirty, but she had become so used to that she didn’t even notice, any more than she was aware of her incongruous garb and the fact that her own fingernails were far from pristine.

‘So you can. The heath is covered in plants, if you look carefully.’

‘No, I meant exploring in foreign countries, climbing the Himalayas or trekking through China or riding a donkey in Mexico.’ Her interest in botany had been fired when, as a small girl, she had watched Joshua Pershore, their gardener, working in their garden. ‘Plants are like people,’ he had told her. ‘Look after them and they will reward you with years of pleasure.’

She had asked him if she could have a patch of garden all to herself and he had shown her how to prepare the soil and sow seed and divide plants to make more. She had watched her garden grow, excitedly noting the first snowdrop, the delicate petals of roses and the way the bulbs died down each year and sprang up anew the next spring. And when she discovered that Toby also shared her passion, it forged a bond between them that sometimes carried them into the realms of fantasy.

She dreamed of emulating the great plant hunters like Sir Joseph Banks, who had travelled with Captain Cook and transformed the Royal gardens at Kew from a pleasure ground to a great botanic garden with specimens from all over the world. And there were others whose exploits and discoveries had fired her interest, men like Francis Masson, and David Nelson, who had been both with Captain Cook when he was murdered by hostile natives and later on the ill-fated voyage with Captain Bligh when he had been cast adrift with him in an open boat when the crew mutinied. That feat had made sure the captain’s name went down in history, though David Nelson lost all his specimens.



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