Strathmere's Bride by Jacqueline Navin Read Free Book Online

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    His voice sounded harsh when next he spoke. “Do not take the children out of doors again without my permission,” he said, and was about to turn away when he heard her say, “No.”
    He stopped, cocking his head. “Can I have heard you correctly?”
    She remained with her back to him, ramrod straight and staring into the fire. “It is not right to keep the little ones confined. I do not agree to it.”
    “Perhaps you misunderstand. I meant that they will go on outings with my permission only.”
    “Why not under your supervision?” She turned so her face was in profile. She had the most extraordinary scooped nose, he noticed. The backlighting from the fire made her pose a perfect cameo. “It would be lovely if you were to spend time with the children. They need their family with them.”
    “Do you find fault with my stewardship of the children?”
    “Only in that you favor an approach reminiscentof one of the posh princes of the East—full control and no responsibility.”
    His temper was rising again, and quickly. “Why, Miss Pesserat, you are most insulting.”
    She stood and whirled on him, her face flushed— though from the proximity of the fire or her rage, he did not know—and her eyes were positively brilliant. “I hate when you call me that My name is Chloe. Could you not manage that bit of informality, or will it choke you to speak it?”
    He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Just as swiftly as it rose, his irritation receded. “Miss Chloe. See, there. I did not burst into a ball of fire.”
    She paused, not trusting him it seemed, before she smiled, one of her wide, true smiles. He watched the slow way it crept across her face, taking that generous mouth into an upward curl and showing even, white teeth. “And you are jesting. However, this time it is not at my expense. You surprise me, your grace.”
    “How rewarding. I endeavor to never be boring.”
    Why did everything he said to this woman end up sounding…unpleasant?
    Surprisingly, however, she wasn’t deflated. “You can never be that, your grace. Oh…” She let the word die and again that smile appeared. “For all your faults, never, never that.”
    Absurd, the flash that skittered through him. What difference did it make what this country maid thought of him? Still, the compliment warmed him.
    It was a compliment—wasn’t it?
    “At least,” he said to cover his disconcertedthoughts, “promise me you will not take any more strolls through violent spring storms.”
    “Oh, la!” she sang, flipping her hand in the air in a fluid gesture. “The children had fun. Did you never do such things when you were a boy? Walk in the rain? Catch raindrops on your tongue?”
    The words fell over him like a pall, pressing on his chest, his shoulders. Unwittingly, she had brought to mind the two things that left him weak with grief—the past and his lost freedom.
    Why had he tarried so long with the silly girl, anyhow? “The matter, Miss Chloe, is settled. No more outings ın the rain. If you do not abide by this, I will be forced to take broader action to ensure my wishes are being observed.”
    The smile disappeared, and she bowed her head. Her drenched hair hung stiffly in pointed strands. “You have made yourself very clear, your grace.”
    He trusted her not to lie to him outright, but he knew she would not flinch from a lie of omission. “Tell me you will obey.”
    After a mutinous pause, she said, “I will obey.” She raised her head, her face blank and plain. When she had smiled, it had been transformed, almost pretty. Yes, actually, quite lovely, in a way that was so very different from Lady Helena’s pristine beauty. Chloe Pesserat was meant to laugh, to run, to do everything in extreme. Wholly opposite to Helena, whose attraction was her—
    The thought struck him and it was accurate, but he still couldn’t resist an inward cringe. The word he had found to describe Helena was moderation.
    The same sense