Compromised by Christmas by Katy Madison Read Free Book Online Page A

blue ribbon around the e topknot in her hair.
She would not be able to create an entirely new wardrobe. When the
holiday house party was in full swing, her richly colored gowns
would have to suffice for the evenings.
    She entered the drawing room. Stealing in unnoticed
was not a possibility with the footman opening the door. At home,
the servants had dwindled to nonexistent before the family had
moved into the cottage. Even without renters the upkeep of the hall
was too much without servants.
    She nodded her thanks, swallowed hard, then glided
into the room, a small smile pasted on her mouth. Now was the time
for her to perform as if her very life depended upon it. Her
stomach churned and her knees threatened to give out on her. So
much rode on her ability to sway one of the guests into becoming
her means of founding her future and the future of her family.
    The Duchess of Trent introduced her to Sir William
Breedon and Lady Breedon. Roxana curtsied and made polite inquiries
about their health and if their travels were pleasant. She spent a
few minutes chatting with Lady Breedon about the awful state of the
roads, agreeing without actually making any comment. She kept her
eyes wide and nodded a lot, expressing a sympathy Roxana had a hard
time mustering.
    Compared to the cramped journey Roxana had taken in
the mail coach, Lady Breedon's experiences with musty lap robes and
a foot heater that would not stay lit sounded trifling. Although
the longer Lady Breedon talked, the more Roxana suspected the
source of the unpleasant trip was her traveling companions, but
Lady Breedon had managed to transfer those less-than-savory
feelings about husband and son to inanimate objects.
    The duke blocked her view of Mr. Breedon. Their
conversation did not carry the length of the massive room.
    Finally, Lady Breedon patted Roxana's gloved hand and
told her she was a good girl for listening to an old woman's
complaints.
    "You are hardly old, my lady."
    "Aren't you a dear? Let me introduce you to my son,
Gregory."
    Ah, the moment of truth. Or really the moment of
untruth, corrected Roxana in her head while taking a deep
breath.
    Lady Breedon led her across the wide room to her son.
Mr. Breedon was short, his face a full moon with poked pale dots
for eyes, a nose too small for breathing and the merest slash where
a mouth should be. He closed it and stared at Roxana's chest as she
was introduced.
    She dropped her eyes as if bashful and fought a sigh.
She extended her hand and dropped her curtsy. "How do you do, sir?
I have so been looking forward to your arrival."
    Mr. Breedon looked up, mildly surprised.
    Max raised his glass to his lips in a mock toast as
if to say I told you so. She didn't dare look at him. Her
sights were set and Mr. Breedon presented her the best candidate.
He had a rumored ten thousand a year, but his breeding was not as
nice as hers. After all, his father was only a knight, so he would
not inherit a title.
    Yet, she had inferred from the Duchess of Trent's
comments that Breedon was not particularly looking for a wife,
which suited her plans. Given that the first place he looked was
her bosom pointed to the kind of interest she needed to
encourage.
    Roxana lifted her eyes to Mr. Breedon's moonish face
and smiled. "It is so comfortable to have one near one's age to
discourse with, don't you agree?"
    Mr. Breedon nodded, that slash, really more of a
slit, of a mouth falling open.
    "Pray tell how was your trip? Your mother was telling
me the roads were quite uncomfortable."
    "They were indeed dreadful. I have thought the
Luddites had sought to ruin them, the holes were so bad."
    Max took a drink and watched her over the rim, his
eyes narrowing.
    Roxana blinked, not knowing how to respond to such an
outrageous suggestion. Destroying textile machinery was a far
different thing than destroying the roadways. She chose to ignore
it. "Travel this time of the year, when it is so chill, can be
unpleasant."
    Mr. Breedon shivered. "Do not