Читать книгу The Wedding Game - Christine Merrill, Christine Merrill - Страница 3

Benjamin Lovell might pretend modesty in his perfect plain suit. But the man was a trumped-up peacock, near to choking on his own pride.

He’d decided, without even meeting her, that he would have dear, sweet, innocent Belle—just to gain a seat in the House of Commons.

Something must be done, and it must be done immediately.

Amy stood suddenly, almost bumping into a young man balancing far too many glasses of lemonade.

Suddenly she had a plan.

She responded with a simpering laugh. ‘La, sir. It is a relief to see you. I retired to the corner for I was parched and near to fainting.’

She reached out and took two of his lemonades, taking a sip from the first. ‘Much better,’ she said, giggling again and ignoring his astonishment at her rudeness.

Then, as if she was as unsteady as she claimed, she turned and staggered forward the two steps necessary to stand before Benjamin Lovell. She wavered, lurched, and allowed herself a brief, triumphant smile. Then she dumped the contents of the glasses in her hand down his elegant white waistcoat.