Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) by Lynette Vinet Read Free Book Online

her like she was a small child.
    When he was gone, she said to Tessie, “I think he is a kind man. I will make him a good wife.” Then she was sick again.
    ~ ~ ~
     
    Ian leaned a black - satin - clad arm against the cool Italian marble mantelpiece in the Oak Drawing Room.
    The rich brown carpet at his feet matched the heavy embroidered drapes on the windows, a direct contrast to the light-colored and unadorned furnishings in the room, the sort of no-nonsense furniture on which a man could stretch out, feel comfortable. With the orange-and-blue flames licking at the logs in the fireplace, the room exuded a warmth, an informality Ian found lacking in the museum-like Woodsley.
    Swirling the rich Madeira in a wine goblet, he surveyed the bottom of the cup, seeing in the depths things which weren’t apparent at first glance. Like this room. He didn’t doubt his mother had furnished the Oak Room with the earl in mind. Probably she’d wanted a refuge for her husband, a place where they could be together in loving camaraderie. Somehow Ian couldn’t imagine the earl sitting in loving camaraderie with anyone. Not Jessica. Most certainly not with the girl he claimed as his daughter.
    The relationship between Talbot and Bethlyn bothered Ian a great deal. Clearly, the man resented her. Upon meeting the earl that morning, Talbot had made no effort to hide his eagerness to have her married and gone from Woodsley. At first Ian believed the man wanted only to marry off an unattractive daughter. Heaven knew the poor girl would have had an awful time finding a man if one hadn’t been readily available for her, Ian decided. The memory of her face, deathly pale with red-rimmed eyes was clear in his mind. However, Ian sensed an undercurrent of something else when the earl became angered at the girl becoming ill.
    Why did Talbot hate her so?
    Shrugging his broad-shouldered frame, Ian glanced out of the long, Palladian-style window at the garden, bereft of blooms. In the distance he spotted a broad walk, flanked by rosebushes and sloping lawns. From his vantage point could be seen the tumbling waters of a cascade and, beyond, a heavily wooded hillside reached skyward. An orangerie and a summerhouse dotted the landscape. Ian couldn’t help but be impressed by the beauty and immense size of Woodsley. For all its grandeur, however, he found the place lacking in warmth, in caring. Was that why he detected an eagerness to be gone from here in the voice of the girl he’d just married? Did she realize to what extent her father disliked her? Of course, she must, Ian found himself thinking. Just because the girl was homely didn’t make her stupid.
    A wave of pity for Bethlyn Talbot, or Bethlyn Briston as she was now known, washed over him. He didn’t want to feel anything for the girl. He’d arrived at Woodsley with every intention of marrying her, of turning on his heels and leaving, minus the bride. An ache to see the well-controlled demeanor of the earl crumble with the knowledge that he’d been royally cuckolded by the son of the man whose wife he’d stolen filled him like a poison. During the sea voyage with Eversley that was all he thought about. He’d intended to leave his bride as soon as the marriage ceremony was over, but the girl had fallen ill and spoiled it all for him.
    He couldn’t forget her pitiful young face, feeling such compassion for her, an emotion he never expected to feel for Talbot’s daughter. The sight of her being wretchedly sick before him, her father, the whole household, must have been quite humiliating for her. Yet, she’d been rather dignified about the whole thing. At least she hadn’t broken free with a gale of sobs. She’d cried softly to herself, but he could accept that. One thing Ian hated was an hysterical female. Somehow he knew that Bethlyn Talbot very seldom gave vent to her emotions, that she kept herself in check out of self-preservation. Living with a man like Nathaniel Talbot she would be