Ravishing the Heiress by Sherry Thomas Read Free Book Online

completely disillusioned. It was not true; there had been one last barrier of hope around her heart: A belief that at least some of Lord Fitzhugh’s disdain had not been his own, but a reflection of his family’s aversion at the kind of marriage he must contract to keep their fortunes afloat.
    Now that his sisters had shown themselves to be kind and helpful, Mrs. Townsend offering to throw her weight behind Millie’s entry into Society, Millie had no more excuses to turn to.
    This marriage would crush her.
    She could not run. She could not hide. And the wedding was in two weeks.
    W hen the idea came, it was as fully formed as Athena, leaping out of Zeus’s forehead. Millie only wondered that she hadn’t thought of it earlier.
    Or perhaps she had, in all the days and nights since it became clear that she was going to become Lord Fitzhugh’s wife. Beneath her trying not to imagine the worst, perhaps she had been planning for just that.
    Mrs. Graves woke up shortly after Mrs. Townsend announced her plans for the party, the dinner, and the ball. Millie’s participation was no longer needed, leaving her free to examine and refine her plan, while pretending to listen to the discussion.
    At teatime, the walk to the Eton players’ pavilion was very long—and all too short.
    The introductions to Lord Fitzhugh’s friends were a blur. Millie was grateful for Mrs. Townsend, in whose presence the young men could barely form coherent sentences, let alone remember that Lord Fitzhugh did not want to marry this mousy girl to whom they were being presented.
    Then, quietly, she made the request to Lord Fitzhugh for a word. Thanks to the magnetic pull of Mrs. Townsend, all Lord Fitzhugh had to do was lead Millie a few pacesaway from the eager cricket players trying to impress his sister. The noise of the crowd milling about gave Millie and her fiancé all the privacy they needed.
    He was leaner than she remembered, warier, his tone quiet. “What may I do for you, Miss Graves?”
    Was this how he would always speak to her, with this meticulous, distant politeness? “I have been thinking about what you said the other day. You made me realize that yes, I
have
been forced into this. I was never given any other choice, never told that there was any other way to justify my existence on this earth but to be the conduit that united the Graves name with a lineage nobler and more ancient.
    “It is a stupid goal. But such are the circumstances of our lives that we must hold our noses and proceed, or we shall both be far worse off. With your predecessor, there was no question that I would be expected to produce an heir as soon as possible. But—dare I assume you are not in as much of a hurry to rush headlong into fatherhood?”
    He glanced to his left. She did not follow the direction of his gaze but she had no doubt that if she did, she would find the young lady he loved. “You would be correct,” he said. “I have no desire to fill nurseries anytime soon.”
    “Neither do I. I do not want to become a mother in the immediate future. And perhaps not even in the intermediate future.”
    “So what do you propose? A nonprocreation covenant?” There was a grim humor to his voice, but none in his eyes.
    “Something a little more comprehensive: a covenant of freedom.”
    He tilted his head; for the first time he appeared interested in the conversation. “What is it?”
    “We say our vows and then, until the time comes for the matter of heirs, we live unencumbered—as if we’d never married. Notice I do not say as if you’d never been left the title. I cannot help you there: Unless you find a general willing to tolerate a lord in his ranks, you will not have a career in the army. But in everything else you should do as you wish: travel, enjoy your friends, woo all the ladies you care to. Go to university if it’s what you’d like. There will be no nagging wife to answer to when you come home. No responsibilities; no