The Uncatchable Miss Faversham by Elizabeth Moss Read Free Book Online Page B

shall not fail your sister, even if I must be carried from carriage to table like a Persian queen.’
        Nathaniel looked down at her untidy chestnut hair in silence. He was used to schooling his expression to betray none of his thoughts, but he struggled to ignore the softness of her body against his.
        Was this how she behaved with the young ton in London? In this flighty, alluringly unconventional manner?
        Against his will, Nathaniel found himself imagining how such behaviour might be construed by the rakish young men of the haut monde . But perhaps she offered her suitors something other than marriage, for her own reasons.
        After all, what would she have to lose? Not her virginity, that was for certain.
        Nathaniel had never quite believed the wildest stories about the Faversham heiress. But now, after this shameless display …
        His throat convulsed. He tried not to consider how Eleanor might have moved from him to other men, allowing them to touch her in the same way he had once done. It was difficult not to give at least some credence to the whispers that had reached him in Warwickshire. The “Uncatchable” Miss Faversham had received dozens of offers of marriage, and accepted none, which seemed to suggest chastity – yet her very smile invited intimacy of a kind reserved only for wives and mistresses.
        What was a man supposed to think?
        The sight and scent of her glorious, ruffled hair disturbed him almost to the point of madness. Nathaniel was mightily glad to reach the lakeside path.
        ‘Can you walk from here?’ he asked, his tone more abrupt than was entirely polite. He set her down on the muddy track. ‘How is your ankle now?’
        ‘I’m not sure.’
        She was smiling at him sunnily enough, yet it seemed to him there was a shadow in her face. Could it be pain?
        That, at least, was something he readily understood and could sympathise with.
        ‘When I walked down to the lake,’ she continued, looking quickly away, ‘there was a groundsman on the drive. He has a horse and cart with him, on which I could ride back up to the house. Would you be good enough to call him, my lord?’
        Ignoring her request, Lord Sallinger hoisted her patiently in his arms again. If she was truly in pain, he could not in all conscience expect her to walk.
        ‘It will be quicker if I carry you to his cart.’
        ‘Sir, your leg … !’
        I am perfectly capable of bearing your weight a few more yards, Miss Faversham.’
        She lapsed into silence then, for which he was grateful. The last few steps up the track towards the drive were painful indeed for Nathaniel, but not due to any physical weakness. He was now convinced that Eleanor Faversham considered him an invalid, unable to function fully as a man. That could be the only explanation for the way her body was trembling in his arms, no doubt filled with revulsion at his proximity.
        With difficulty, Nathaniel shook away the turbulent emotion such thoughts raised in his chest, and allowed an icy calm to descend upon him instead.
        His scarred face, his limp: these defects were anathema to Miss Eleanor Faversham. A woman of her exacting standards would accept nothing but a perfect man, whole and healthy in mind and body. He was wracked in both, which meant his only hope of achieving any union with her was – as it had always been – via dishonourable means.
        Once he might have been tempted to pursue any offer from Eleanor Faversham whatsoever. But purely physical pleasures, however tempting in his darker hours, were no longer enough for him. Or were they?
        The man with the horse and cart straightened and stared at them in surprise, dropping his filthy shovel.
        Lifting Eleanor onto the box-seat at the front of the cart, Lord Sallinger bade the astonished groundsman convey his mistress straight back to the big house.
        ‘And