Defiant Angel by Stephanie Stevens Read Free Book Online Page B

up under her. When she realized what she was doing, she quickly rectified the situation, only to be stopped by her aunt's hand and accompanying words.
    "Tiffany, if we are to be housemates, so to speak, I think it best we feel comfortable with each other. It makes living with one another far easier."
    Tiffany resettled herself, tucking her legs beneath her. Winifred smiled, cocking her head as Tiffany began to tell her about her love of horses, including Xanadu. Winifred listened with half an ear, for she had already learned a great deal about her niece prior to her arrival. And as Tiffany's sweet voice filled the air, Winifred watched this young child-woman, seeing the promise of exquisite beauty in her face, the passion and spirit so like Robert's that emanated from her. She was again drawn to her smile, the same full lips, the same shape but with a feminine flair. She thought it really incredible, but with that smile, Tiffany could almost have been Robert's daughter.
    Thinking of Robert made Winifred's heart ache, for he was her first and true love. Memories, both bitter and sweet, flooded her mind. The only thing worse than his death was that she had had no children by him; children would not have lessened the pain his death had caused her, but they would have left her with a part of him.
    Tiffany's peal of laughter brought Winifred to the present. A smile crept over her lips as she thought, Yes. While Tiffany is not our daughter, she shall be treated as if she were. She will have the happiness she's been denied by William.
    She recalled the disparaging remarks William had written about Tiffany. Oh, yes, Winifred could see the impulsiveness and spirit, but would not break that spirit, nay, she would channel it, and Tiffany would be a success while continuing to be who she was.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by Tiffany's question. "I'm sorry, dear, I must have been wool-gathering." Seeing the hurt expression cross her niece's face, Winifred smoothed over her remark. "When you smile, dear, you remind me of Robert."
    "You really loved Uncle Robert, didn't you?" She rushed on as a fourteen-year-old usually does, not waiting for an answer but asking another question. "Was yours an arranged marriage like Alysse's, Aunt?"
    "Robert's and my marriage was indeed a manage de eonvenance. "
    Seeing Tiffany's smile fade, Winifred added, "However, it turned into, as the French say an affaire de coeur. "
    Tiffany clapped her hands in glee. "I knew it."
    "Is there someone special for you, Tiffany?"
    Tiffany rolled her eyes and leaned closer to her aunt. "Oh yes, Aunt, a very special man. Alan Thurston." She looked seriously at Winifred and spoke confidently. "He as much as said he'll ask for me when I return. But Father does not know anything about it."
    "Would your father not approve?"
    "Heavens no. Alan fits father's mold--lineage, wealth, and title. He will be a marquess someday. It is important I do well here, Aunt, for Alan's sake as well as Father's."
    "No doubt more so for Alan's sake than your father's." Winnie smiled.
    Tiffany agreed, "Most definitely."
    "Is it the man you have a tender for, or his title, dear?"
    Tiffany quickly responded. "Alan, of course. The title would only interest Father. I personally think titles are far overrated, begging your pardon, Aunt." Winnie smiled, waving her hand to indicate no offense taken. Tiffany rambled on, "And the dukes, why, they are the worst of the lot! Steeped in their misguided beliefs that they are above all."
    Winifred rose, taking Tiffany's hands in her own. "Dear, we will make you a success. Never doubt that. Your Alan will not be disappointed."
    Tiffany rose, still holding her aunt's hand. "Do you really think I will be a success?"
    "Tiffany, there is no doubt about that, for no one ever disappoints me."
    France
    1816-1818

Chapter Four
    Paris, April 1816
    "O h, Aunt Winnie, she's splendid!" Tiffany exclaimed. She walked over to the black mare, stroking her soft velvet muzzle.