A Wild Pursuit
Chapter OneIn Which Scandal Brews in Wiltshire
Shantill House
Limpley-Stoke, Wiltshire
It is a truth universally acknowledged by women that it
is far easier to dress when the point is to cover one's
body, than when one desires to leave expanses of flesh delectably uncovered.
In the days of Esme Rawlings's reign over London society, it took her hours to clothe herself. She would emerge as a caterpillar from its coccoon: silky black curls gleaming over pearly shoulders, bodice miraculously suspended in air
at the very moment of dropping to her waist, delectable
curves swathed in a fabric so light and revealing that many
gentlemen weakened at the knees at her very sight. Other
gentlemen stiffened. It was all a matter of constitution.
These days it took precisely twenty minutes to throw on
enough clothing to cover herself, and gentlemen in her
vicinity never showed reaction beyond a sharpish discomfort
at the apparition of a woman with a stomach the size of
a large cannonball.
"I am plump as a pork pudding," Esme said, peering at
herself in the mirror over her dressing table.
"I wouldn't say that," her aunt said with her characteristic drawl. Viscountess Withers was seated in a small ... read full excerpt from: A Wild Pursuit ebook