Sweet Surrender by Cheryl Holt Read Free Book Online Page A

fireplace. 
    "That’s Edward, isn’t it?" she said.  "That’s your brother?"
    "Yes, that’s Edward."
    "And I have a portrait of him, too."  She reached into her purse and withdrew a locket on a chain.  "Edward gave it to Georgina on their wedding day."
    Jackson marched over and extended his hand.  She dropped the locket into it, and he opened the clasp and peeked inside.  He had the same miniature portrait tucked in a tiny frame in his bedchamber in Egypt. 
    It had been painted the year Edward was twenty, the year he married Susan.  The artist had made several copies, and Edward had distributed them to acquaintances.
    Why would Miss Bennett have one unless Edward had given it to Georgina?  How else could Miss Bennett have come into possession of it?
    "I’ll just keep this—if you don’t mind." 
    He started to stick the locket in his pocket, but she jumped up and snatched it away.
    "I do mind as a matter of fact.  It’s Michael’s only picture of his father, and you may not have it!"
    She plopped down in her chair, and she glowered at him, oozing such disdain that he nearly laughed aloud.
    Women loved him and always had.  Every one but Susan, that is, and she’d been smitten, too, until the title of countess had been dangled in front of her.  They liked his tall, dark good looks, his wealth and status.  Yet mostly, they were titillated by his masculine attitudes and habits. 
    After his bout with Susan, he didn’t have much patience with feminine nonsense.  In his dealings with females, he was crass and brusque.  He didn’t care what women thought, and he found monogamy to be tedious, so he was a challenge they were all determined to win. 
    They threw themselves at him, tolerating any behavior in case he turned out to be kinder than he seemed or more amenable to being shackled.
    But he was who he was:  a bored, vain, rich man with few redeeming qualities and even fewer positive traits.
    Miss Bennett realized that about him, and she wasn’t impressed.  The situation bothered him enormously, when he couldn’t figure out why.
    She was a petite sprite who was too short and too thin, making her the complete opposite of the buxom, curvaceous blonds he preferred.  Her hair was an odd shade of auburn, the likes of which he’d never previously seen on a female.  It was probably quite striking, but she had it pulled into a tight chignon so he couldn’t tell for sure.
    Only her eyes—big and green and expressive—gave any hint of beauty.  They were shrewd and assessing, and they followed his every stride as if she was watching to discover if he ever made a mistake.  He’d made plenty in his life, the most recent one being his decision to listen to her wild tale.
    What was he to do now?
    He stared and stared, and she stared back, refusing to provide any guidance as to how they should proceed.
    "You claim you don’t want any money from me," he finally said. 
    "I don’t."
    "If you’re not after a financial boon, it would help if you would clarify what it is you’re seeking."
    "I had hoped to receive some assistance for Michael, perhaps a small stipend or a place to live until we’re on our feet again, but we don’t need anything, after all."
    "Really?" he scoffed.  "It appears to me that you’re about ten steps away from camping in a ditch."
    "I don’t see how our fate is any of your affair."
    "You don’t?  You barged in, declaring that you’ve brought my nephew, and you think I should be unconcerned?  Your brain works in convoluted ways."
    "So I’ve heard."  She stood suddenly.  "Are we finished?"
    "No."
    She responded as if he hadn’t spoken.  "I must collect Michael and Eleanor so we can be going.  I’d like to make it into the village before dark."
    "You’re staying here, Miss Bennett.  I’m afraid I have to insist."
    "For how long?"
    "A few weeks?"
    "A few weeks?  Why?"
    "I’m sending inquiries to Cornwall.  One of my men will interview your neighbors and the vicar who