Love's Price (Lord Trent Series) by Cheryl Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

last August. I was the eldest and only son, so Brookhaven is mine.”
    “I see,” Phillip murmured.
    He paused, critically assessing Nigel, and Fanny sensed that Phillip was having her same vague misgivings. With their discovering Helen and Harriet to be absent, there was no reason to remain. They could conclude their business and go.
    Phillip would be anxious to return to London and his wife, Anne, who was very pregnant and about to give birth to their first child.
    Fanny was eager to get home, too. Her baby daughter, Elizabeth, was two months old, and Fanny’s trip with Phillip was the sole time they’d been separated. Her husband, Michael, was extremely protective, and he’d be fretting. He’d been irritated over her traveling—even though it had involved a journey of only a few hours.
    “Might we be frank?” Fanny said.
    “Yes, of course,” Nigel responded.
    “Our father”—Fanny gestured to Phillip and herself—“is Charles Sinclair, Earl of Trent.”
    Nigel narrowed his gaze, studying Fanny, then he declared, “Ah...I see it now.”
    “What is that?” Phillip queried.
    “Helen and Harriet are your half-sisters. The two of you look just like them.”
    “Really?” Fanny had no other blood kin, and at the news, she was inordinately thrilled.
    “So you know that Trent is their natural father,” Phillip said.
    “Oh, yes,” Nigel admitted. “We’ve always known. Their mother was madly in love with him. It was never a secret.”
    “And what about Helen and Harriet?”
    “They weren’t apprised until they were sixteen.”
    “How did they take it?”
    “Not well. They were away at school, and they left. We never saw them again.”
    “Where did they go?”
    “We assume to London—to confront Lord Trent. They wrote a note to the headmistress.”
    “But they never arrived or returned?”
    “No.” Nigel shrugged. “We searched for them, but London is a large place.”
    “And you haven’t had a clue since?”
    “No,” he said again. “May I ask why you’re hunting for them?”
    “As their siblings,” Phillip claimed, “we simply want to introduce ourselves.”
    “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nigel said.
    “So am I.” Phillip stood and offered Nigel his card. “If you should ever hear from them, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know.”
    “I will.”
    Fanny stood, too. “Thank you for seeing us.”
    “It was my pleasure.”
    They collected their things, and Nigel escorted them out, waving them off with a friendly goodbye. It was all very correct, very affable, but once their carriage pulled away, Fanny peered over at Phillip and inquired, “What do you think?”
    “I don’t like him.”
    “Neither do I.”
    “I can’t put my finger on it,” Phillip said, “but there’s something dodgy about him.”
    “I agree. Did you notice the rug or the sofa?”
    “No. Should I have?”
    “You’re a typical male, so no. The house is elegant and well-designed, but it’s in a terrible state of disrepair.”
    “Interesting.”
    “Isn’t it? The carpets are tattered, the drapes and couches badly worn. There were dust balls under the writing desk—as if they have no maids for cleaning.”
    “So Mr. Stewart is broke, but exhibiting a public show of affluence?”
    “Precisely.”
    “And Helen and Harriet? Do you suppose they’re actually missing?”
    “I’m not certain,” Fanny said, “but we ought to keep searching. I wouldn’t take Nigel Stewart’s word for anything.”

    “Mother! Mother!”
    “What is it, darling?”
    Nigel rushed up to his mother, Barbara, knowing that he was her dearest favorite, her one true joy in life.
    “You’ll never believe what’s happened,” Nigel said.
    “Tell me,” she urged, swept up in his excitement.
    “We’ve had visitors.”
    “Who?”
    “A fellow from London named Phillip Sinclair and his half-sister, Viscountess Henley.”
    “A viscountess!” Barbara imbued the appellation with the same awe that Nigel