Her Christmas Earl by Anna Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

sideboard and poured generous brandies for Sir Theodore and his master. Then after a considering glance at Mrs. Sanders, one for that lady.
    Erskine stepped next to Philippa and once more took her small, cold hand in his. His deliberately ostentatious gesture wouldn’t be lost on her mother and uncle. Or her sister.
    Ignoring Philippa’s frantic attempts to pull away, he straightened and spoke words that yesterday hadn’t been on his horizon. “Sir Theodore, would you honor me with your niece’s hand in marriage?”

 
    Chapter Five

    FOR PHILIPPA, THE next four days became a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. She felt like a ghost in her uncle’s house. Or like a prisoner in a dungeon. Again and again, she protested that under no circumstances would she marry Lord Erskine, yet still arrangements proceeded for the hurried wedding.
    Why should her mother change a lifetime’s habit and listen to her now? The triumph of capturing the elusive Scottish earl for her daughter made her mother deafer than usual to common sense. Not that her triumph was untrammeled joy. Even as she prodded at Philippa to show some enthusiasm for this ill-judged match, she bewailed the fact that Lord Erskine had chosen the wrong daughter. How it irked her that the beautiful older sister would become a mere Mrs., while plain little Philippa joined the ranks of the aristocracy.
    Amelia’s reaction to the engagement was no surprise either, which made it no more pleasant to endure. Like their mother, she was convinced that Philippa had engineered this awful mess. In Amelia’s mind, Lord Erskine had been ready to steal her away from her betrothed. Only Philippa’s spite had stymied that glorious outcome. As a result, Amelia retreated into a seething silence that Philippa correctly diagnosed as a first-class sulk. Even Mr. Fox noticed that his chosen bride had been elated on Christmas Eve and noticeably downcast and snappish since—and nobody would describe him as the most perceptive of men.
    The only blessing in the whole miserable situation was that, thanks to the almighty scandal, all guests not directly linked to the family had departed the house by Christmas night. Unfortunately that left Philippa with her betrothed, her vile cousin Caroline, her sullen sister, a mother who ignored her every plea, and an aunt and uncle never much interested in her, who now treated her like she carried a contagious disease. Mr. Fox was kind but a stranger, and he’d taken to retreating into the smoking room to avoid his grumpy fiancée.
    Philippa tried to warn her sister about her behavior toward Mr. Fox and got no thanks for her trouble. After that, she decided to let Amelia stew. Philippa had problems of her own. It was all very well knowing that she was blameless—she refused to feel guilty for enjoying Erskine’s kisses. He was a notable rake; he could probably make a saint kiss him back. But when the world viewed her as a scarlet woman, and, more galling, an overweening social climber, it became difficult to hold her head high.
    Gossip had spread horrifically quickly. Even three days later, she shuddered to recall the ordeal of church on Christmas morning. She’d pretended not to hear the whispers from pew to pew when the Sanders and Liddell families arrived for the service. Under the avid stares, Philippa had wanted to curl up and die. She didn’t like being the center of attention, particularly attention bristling with malice and disapproval.
    It irked her that Lord Erskine had taken his new circumstances in his stride. On Christmas morning, he’d been so cool under fire that she’d wanted to skin him alive. Almost as much as she wanted to skin him for setting this marriage in train without asking her first.
    She’d been right all along. He was an arrogant swine.
    Trapped in that dark dressing room, she’d wondered if he was a better man than she’d thought. And despite everything that had happened since, she’d never deny how marvelous