Maggie MacKeever (30 page)

But once more Miss Valentine interrupted. “Jevon!” she whispered, half-swooning with shock. “You cannot mean— You dare not— But you said we were going to Kent!”

“So we are, where we shall be married very properly from your father’s house.” Jevon’s hands moved to her shoulders. “And now—”

“But Georgiana will disinherit you!” wailed Miss Valentine.

“A fig for Georgiana!” Mr. Rutherford retorted, rather violently.
“Will
you be quiet and let me kiss you?!” The matter presented to her in so reasonable a manner, Miss Valentine instantly complied.

The dowager duchess did not disinherit Mr. Rutherford, of course; and Jevon and Sara dwelt as excellently together as she had always anticipated they would. London’s most eligible ex-bachelor and his Viscountess also dwelt together excellently well, each curbing the other’s less admirable traits, so that in time Jaisy became a great deal less rag-mannered, and Carlin grew noticeably less stiff-rumped. Sir Phineas Fairfax continued as Lady Blackwood’s man of business for the remainder of his life, and continued in his odd way to be devoted to the dowager’s interests. In a manner much more easily understood, he also remained devoted to a certain little opera dancer who graced the stage at Drury Lane, and who, after the cavalier treatment accorded her by her previous admirer, was very receptive to the addresses of a gentleman less charming and disenchanted, and rather more free of foibles. Once safely returned to Queen Anne Street, Confucious never set forth again a-traveling, and established with the smallest kitchen maid a mutually beneficial arrangement by which she advanced rapidly in the dowager’s estimation and he was regularly fed. Mr. Kingscote eventually abandoned such sartorial exuberances as padded jackets of bright yellow and pantaloons of lime green, and settled down in the Midlands with a manufacturing heiress whose conduct was as unexceptionable as her nature was placid, and who never once in all the years of their union even thought of boxing his ears. In short, as Lady Easterling might have put it, no matter how many facers she planted her victims in the process, Dame Fortune arranged that all resolved itself very satisfactorily.

Writing has always been Maggie MacKeever's great love. Her first story, written in the third grade about a witch who lived in a tree, has perhaps fortunately been lost. A fascination with Georgette Heyer's Regency England led to her first book for Fawcett Crest, LORD FAIRCHILD'S DAUGHTER. Following that came numerous other Regencies for Fawcett, a couple of Regencies for Pocketbooks, three historical romances, a hardback romance for Doubleday, and a series starring an eccentric mystery-solving Baroness. A divorce melt-down left her in no mood to write romances, and she took a break. She swears procrastination had nothing to do with that break having lasted fifteen years. Now that she's finally returned to the romance field, and remembers how much she enjoyed it, she wonders why she ever left.

Visit Maggie MacKeever's website at: http://www.maggiemackeever.com

Copyright © 1980 by Maggie MacKeever

Originally published by Fawcett Coventry (0449501167)

Electronically published in 2008 by Belgrave House

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.