A Rival for Rivingdon by J.A. Rock EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: J.A. Rock
- Language: English
- Genre: Regency Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
March 26, 1818. One week until the Season begins.
oftus Rivingdon, third and youngest son of Baron Rivingdon, stood
before his tailor’s mirror and slowly lifted an ivory silk hat, trimmed
with apple-green ribbon, in both hands. He placed it carefully atop his head
and studied himself.
Behind him in the mirror, his mother, Lady Emmeline Rivingdon,
watched, her hands clasped in anticipation. “Oh Loftus—” she began in a
breathless whisper.
“I hate it,” Loftus declared loudly.
Lady Rivingdon gasped. “Loftus! But you look simply stunning.”
“This ribbon does not match my eyes!” Loftus whirled to face his
mother. “I was promised a ribbon that would match my eyes!”
M. Verreau—“Clothier to the Nobility – Elegance to the Discerning
Gentleman”—placed his hands on his hips. “That is the closest colour I
could find.” He spoke with a light French accent, and did not appear at all
fazed by this crisis, which angered Loftus further. He wanted the fellow
thoroughly fazed.
Loftus ripped the hat from his head and hurled it to the floor, then
turned to the mirror once again. “I look terrible.” He tugged his waistcoat.
“I have no waist—look at this! Mother, these stays are not doing their job.”
“You are thin as a spindle,” M. Verreau said. “I do not know what you
are worried about.”
“Tighten them,” Loftus ordered, hastily unbuttoning his waistcoat and
tossing it to join the canary yellow coat he had removed earlier. He yanked
the tails of his shirt from his trousers, then raised the shirt to reveal the short
stays around his waist.
“Loftus!” His mother tittered and said, unconvincingly, “Manners.” She
glanced at Verreau. “My apologies. He’s been a little highly-strung of late,
anticipating the start of the Season.”
“Yes, I recall from his fitting,” the tailor said flatly. “Mr. Rivingdon,
your stays are already tied more tightly than is at all good for the laces.”
Loftus shot the man a glare as his mother began untying his stays.
“Here now, my Loftus,” she said, pulling the laces as tight as she could.
She grunted with the effort, and Loftus hissed in a breath, bracing himself
against the wall as she yanked.
“Tighter, Mother,” he insisted through gritted teeth.
“You need a smaller size.” Verreau did not even raise his voice to be
heard over the groaning and hissing. “As I have few gentlemen seeking
stays, I am not sure I have anything smaller. But I can have something
made. It will take roughly two weeks.”
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