The Love List by Deb Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page A

opposition to her looks, appeared all that was confident and capable.  Somehow she managed to sound both brisk and sympathetic as she questioned the girl, even as she examined her injuries with competent hands. 
    “It’s Letty again,” the other, younger woman said with a catch in her voice.  She glanced over at the older woman.  “She’s one of Hatch’s girls.”
    Brynne nearly flinched at the grim look that passed over that angelic face.  If she’d had any doubt that this was Hestia Wright, it would have ended with that expression.  Clearly this was indeed the woman who stood as champion to her less fortunate sisters.  And it looked as if this Hatch was in for a taste of retribution.
    “It has been a while since I’ve seen Hatch.  I’ll stop around for a little visit in the morning.” 
    The bloodied girl made a sound of fear and protest, but Hestia merely patted her in reassurance.  “Not to worry, dear.  We’ll just have a little talk about respect and good manners.  They are only good business, you know.”  She knelt down and took both of the girl’s hands in her own.  “You have nothing to fear.”
    She stood and passed Letty and her fresh spate of weeping to the other woman.  “Callie, would you take our young friend upstairs?  I think Sally’s room would be best, don’t you?  Tonight she shouldn’t be left alone.” 
    As the younger woman gently led the girl away, Miss Wright turned a wry smile upon the hackney driver, still lingering near the door.  “Ah, Jinks.  I can always count on you to bring me a lap full of trouble.”
    “Here now, ye won’t be laying all the blame on me, Miz Wright.  That one t’weren’t my doin’.  I jest found her curled up against yer fence.”  He thrust his chin in Brynne’s direction.  “Now this one, on the other hand, I’m forced t’ claim responsibility fer.  I brought her to ye.”  His mouth twisted.  “And me gut is tellin’ me that she’ll be more than the usual amount o’ trouble.”
    Brynne’s chest tightened as she stepped forward, her lungs refusing to draw in air.  “Miss Wright,” she began.  “I’m afraid that I’ve also come seeking your help.  I’ve heard so much about you—all the stories—how you were bitterly betrayed by the men in your life, how you rose above the horrid circumstances they left you in, how you’ve dedicated your life to helping others who’ve been left with no chance and no voice.”  She faltered, suddenly unsure, as every vestige of warmth drained from the other woman’s already pale complexion.  “My name is—”
    “I know who you are,” Hestia Wright whispered.  She sank down onto the bench that Letty had just vacated.
    Brynne stood silent a moment, absorbing this.  This was hardly the welcome she’d hoped for—or imagined at least a thousand times over the last hours.  “Then you’ll know that my father . . .”
    “Your betrothed,” the other woman cut in, her voice sharp.  “I know who your betrothed is.”  She waved a hand, beckoning, and Brynne answered, sitting down beside her on the bench.  Hestia Wright ran a caressing finger along her hair, across the breadth of her cheek, and then she reached down to grip her hand tight. 
    “Dear God,” she whispered.  “How I’ve felt for you, feared for you, but I never dreamed that you would . . .”  Her other hand shook as she raised it to her mouth, but it couldn’t contain a bitter, almost hysterical laugh.  “The irony of it—of you coming here, seeking me out—I can scarcely take it in.”
    Brynne’s breath caught.  “Then you’ll help me?  I can stay?”
    Hestia Wright’s beauty was legendary.  Even in mussed nightclothes she might have been a work of art, an idealized figure of warm golden curls and an iced sapphire gaze sprung straight from a master’s brush.  Brynne could only watch, hopeful, helpless, as those renowned eyes narrowed, staring over her shoulder at a future she