The Rogue Prince by Margo Maguire Read Free Book Online Page B

have an appointment this afternoon that I must keep.”
    She looked into his eyes, her disappointment and confusion clear. “But tomorrow. I will meet you anywhere you wish. Tomorrow.”

Chapter 3
    M aggie saw one of her stepbrother’s footmen standing at the front door when she exited Thomas’s carriage at the far end of the square. She did not want to face Shefford now, not with her obvious flush and disheveled appearance, for he would surely grasp that something had happened.
    And she did not want to share any part of it with him.
    What she’d just experienced was far beyond anything she’d thought possible, and she shuddered with an eager anticipation of her tryst with Thomas upon the morrow. She refused to feel any guilt at all.
    Somehow, she managed to keep her legs working after entering the house. She walked quietly to the stairs, anxious to get to her own bedchamber, hoping to avoid Shefford and whatever reason he had for coming for her so early. Her stepbrother could just bide his time until they had to leave for their meeting with Julian’s solicitor.
    The house was quiet, but for the sound of voices in the drawing room, and as Maggie crept past theclosed door, she heard Shefford’s voice, in discussion with another man. She kept walking until his words stopped her cold.
    â€œShe never bothered Julian,” he said. “Can’t imagine she’ll be a problem for you, either, Kimbridge.”
    â€œIf only the old dog didn’t insist,” said Shefford’s companion. “Then I wouldn’t have to look for a wife just yet. Or ever.”
    â€œIf I understood you correctly,” Shefford said, “your father told you to get a respectable wife, or there would be no allowance.”
    Maggie tried very hard not to jump to any conclusions, but then Shefford spoke again.
    â€œLook here,” he said. “You need a well-regarded wife, and Margaret is just the thing. God knows she cannot refuse your fortune, and your paterfamilias will surely be satisfied with a decent, reputable, country widow.”
    â€œI’m starting to believe you have a point, Shefford.”
    â€œOf course I do. Margaret will be as biddable a wife to you as she was to Blackmore. And you know she’s a decent breeder. Blackmore got two children off her in the few years they were married.”
    â€œDash it all, Sheff. I know you’re right. I…When shall I begin the courtship?”
    Maggie felt the burn of bile rising to her throat. She did not stay to hear Shefford’s reply, but hurried on to her bedchamber, her mind raging between shock and disbelief.
    Â 
    Tom’s first nine years away from home had been an exercise in painful hardships. The forced labor and brutality of the island guards were the least of it. The prisoners had known hunger on Norfolk Island, and every other kind of privation. Illness ran rife among the weak, and Tom had taken a few of the more vulnerable convicts under his wing to protect them. He’d stood up to the bullies who would have taken Duncan’s food from him, and buried far too many children who’d been too weak to survive their seven- or ten-year sentences.
    After four years on the island, he and Nate had been transferred to the mainland where they worked for a free landholder. It was hard labor, but their masters were not as harsh as Major Foveaux and the guards on Norfolk Island. There, Tom’s whippings had been less frequent, and when he and Nate finally served out their sentences, they’d signed onto a whaling ship in the belief that it was the only way they’d be able to earn their way home. They had not been able to turn their backs on Port Jackson soon enough.
    Tom spent every waking moment thinking of the time when he would be able to return to Suffolk and resume the life that Shefford and Blackmore had interrupted. He and Nate worked the whaler, planning to make their way toward the Antilles