The Maverick's Bride by Catherine Palmer Read Free Book Online

the young railway man. Even though he tried to maintain his genteel poise, irritation showed on his face. She spoke softly. “I’ll just be a moment, Mr. Bond.”
    “Of course, Miss Pickering.”
    Cissy slipped her arm around Emma’s and hurried across the room toward the verandah.
    “What have you done, sister?” Cissy’s voice was a shrill whisper. “You let that man—that cowboy—take you outsidewithout a chaperone! Father is livid. Honestly, Emma, what were you thinking?”
    “Father saw us?” She’d had no idea.
    “Of course he did. You’re meant to be dancing with Mr. Bond. He’s your escort.”
    “Adam asked about my nursing.”
    “Adam? You call him Adam?”
    But Emma did not hear her sister’s words. She was gazing at the gloves on the side table beside the door. Lifting her eyes to the window, she looked out into the moonlit night.
    A movement caught her attention and she focused on the long gravel drive lined with flowering trees. Down its silvery path galloped a dark shadow of a horse. As the rider urged his mount through the gate and turned onto the street, Emma gingerly lifted her gloves from the table.

Chapter Three
    “E mmaline.”
    At the deep voice, Emma turned from the ballroom window to face her father. Lips rimmed in white, he stared at her.
    “Yes, Father?” She heard the tremble in her voice.
    “Come with me, Emmaline.”
    Emma glanced at Cissy, whose face had paled to ash. With a quick squeeze of her sister’s hand, Cissy nudged Emma toward their father. Godfrey Pickering turned on his heel and strode across the room toward the hallway.
    Hurrying after him, Emma swallowed at the fear of what was to come, a scene father and daughter so often had played out. Knowing what to expect did nothing to calm the thundering of her heart. She ventured a look at Nicholas. He had risen from the sofa, his eyes narrowed in curiosity.
    “Father, what is it?” Emma called after the man, though she knew her offense too well.
    He opened the door to a study some distance from the ballroom. “Emmaline, sit down.”
    She perched on the edge of a long, overstuffed couch and knotted her hands together in her lap. Standing in front of aheavily curtained window, Pickering gazed at his daughter. He placed the tips of his fingers on the back of an armchair.
    “Emmaline, did my eyes deceive me just now?”
    She studied her fingers. “What did you see, Father?”
    “I believe I saw you walking outside with a man. The American.”
    “Sir, Mr. King wished to speak to me about a matter of some import. Truly, you saw nothing untoward.”
    She stopped speaking, eyes on her father. Was he angry enough to strike her? It would not be the first time.
    “Must I defend my actions on every occasion, Father?” she asked him. “You insist that I marry, and the sooner the better. Why should it trouble you where I place my attentions?”
    Pickering’s eyes blazed. “Of course I want you to marry. I expect you to marry, and you will—as every woman should. But your husband must be suitable, Emmaline. A man like Nicholas Bond.”
    “I have no interest in Mr. Bond.” Emma stood. “Nor do I want Adam King, for that matter. If I have my way, I shall never marry.”
    “Emmaline, lower your voice,” Godfrey ordered. “Our words can be heard in the hall.”
    “I’m sorry, Father,” she said with a sigh. “Forgive me.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Sit down, Emmaline.”
    “Father, I am twenty-two years old. Please speak to me as an adult.”
    “I might consider it if you would act like one. But you insist on disobedience—as though your own feelings and desires are all that matter to your future.”
    “What else can be of any significance to me?”
    “The right and proper thing to do! Emmaline, you will one day be a woman of immense wealth.”
    She had heard this speech so often she could almost recite her father’s words.
    “You must see to it that your inheritance is not squandered,” he continued. “My