Rules For Being A Mistress
Chapter One
Despite all rumors to the contrary, Sir Benedict Wayborn
had not been born with a cast-iron poker lodged up his bum.
He simply had excellent posture. Even while traveling alone,
as he was now, in a hired carriage miles away from his own
county, the baronet sat up straight, as stiff and unyielding in private
as he was in public. His face might have been carved from
marble as he considered his lack of progress in securing a wife.
He was on his way to Bath. A hard rain continued to fall as
night closed in, but Benedict ordered the coachman to drive
on. From Chippenham they advanced at a snail's pace until,
about four miles from Bath, they stopped altogether. A vehicle
was foundering in the road, its wheels lodged a foot deep
in mud. As servants worked to move it, a gentleman and a
young lady watched from beneath a single umbrella.
Having lost half of his right arm as a boy after being
mauled by a dog, Benedict was never eager for the company
of strangers, but he civilly instructed his driver to invite the
Fitzwilliams to share his carriage for the rest of the journey.
... read full excerpt from: Rules For Being A Mistress ebook
