Cheryl Holt by Too Tempting to Touch Read Free Book Online Page B

“you’re being such a stick-in-the-mud. Are you feeling all right? Have you a headache?”
    “No. I’m merely weary of the engagement preparations. You’re aware of how much I hate London.”
    “I realize that, and you’re a dear to have accompanied me to town.”
    “It’s not as if I had any choice. I couldn’t let you travel alone, and you certainly couldn’t reside with Cousin Alex by yourself.”
    “No, I couldn’t, and I’m grateful to you.”
    “Are you, Rebecca? Are you really?”
    “Yes, Lydia.”
    Rebecca offered the charming smile for which she was renowned, and Lydia yearned to slap it off her face.
    It was the height of affront for Lydia to watch and help as Rebecca completed her betrothal to Alex. Originally, Lydia was to have been Alex’s bride, but for reasons that had never been clear, their fathers had switched the girls’ positions, so that Rebecca was the fiancée and Lydia was nothing, at all.
    Lydia hadn’t cared about Alex—she was incapable of such strong sentiment—but it galled that Rebecca would have something that should have been Lydia’s. Rebecca could have had any man she wanted, and should have been required to accept Alex’s younger, ne’er-do-well brother, Nicholas, but she’d latched on to Alex without a thought as to Lydia’s wishes.
    It was a shame Lydia couldn’t forgive, and sometimes she worried that she might explode from carting around so much rage.
    More footsteps sounded, and Ellen staggered in. She was severely attired in a drab gray dress. Her golden hair was concealed by an unsightly mobcap and, as if she’d been ill, she was pale and shaky.
    She slinked in and obtained a single piece of toast, which was strange considering that she normally ate like a horse, taking full advantage of the meaning of
room and board
. She seated herself, while Rebecca chattered away, in her typical irritating fashion, about the fun they would have shopping.
    Lydia ignored them both. She despised Ellen even more than Rebecca. Ellen was the most striking woman Lydia had ever met, surpassing Rebecca with a maturity and grace that Rebecca hadn’t yet achieved. Though adequately reared and educated, Ellen was poverty-stricken and had no prospects, yet she carried herself like royalty. She was always putting on airs, and she acted as if shewere a special guest or member of the family rather than a lowly employee.
    Rebecca viewed Ellen as a friend and treated her as such, failing to indicate the distinction for Ellen as to her true role. Lydia had to continually chastise Ellen for forgetting her place.
    “Would you mind terribly if one of the maids went with you?” Ellen was suddenly whining. “I’m not well.”
    Rebecca was about to reply with sympathetic drivel, so Lydia butted in before she could. “Yes, I
mind
if you loaf at home.”
    “Now Lydia,” Rebecca interjected, “if Ellen is under the weather, I can run my errands tomorrow. It’s no problem.”
    “You’ll pick up the gowns this morning, Rebecca.” Lydia’s harsh tone cut off any argument. “As for you”—she glared at Ellen—“you’re being compensated to attend Rebecca. Not wallow in your sickbed. Have some tea, restore yourself, then be about your duties.”
    Lydia rose and left, declining to linger and be badgered by either of them. There was nothing more nauseating than observing the two of them together when they were chummy and cordial.
    As she stomped down the hall, she recognized that her temper was more aggravated than usual. She couldn’t decide whether it was from her anger over the pending nuptials or from the fact that she’d bumped into Nicholas earlier and he’d been too cross to say hello.
    Somehow . . . someway . . .
she vowed to herself, she would get even with all of them. Before she was through, she would make them pay for every slight, and they would all be so sorry.

    Nicholas Marshall paused outside the dressing room of the infamous French actress Suzette DuBois. She was