Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Read Free Book Online

hesitated to make known her views regarding Season's conduct with Tom, and she was sure the roof would cave in on them all when the master returned home.
    Season was out riding Cinibar when her father arrived. Upon her return, she saw her father's coach and six being unhitched by the new stable boy. She swallowed the lump in her throat and made her way to the house.
    Fear gnawed at her insides when Simms gave her a sympathetic smile.
    "Your father is waiting for you in the study, my lady. He asked to see you at once."
    As Season approached her father's study she had to force one foot in front of the other, and her hands were trembling when she reached the heavy, nail-studded oak door. Squaring her shoulders, she rapped lightly.
    "The door's open," her father's voice boomed out.
    Season took a deep breath and entered the room. Her father was seated at his desk, and his eyes pierced her with an angry glare. Her heart seemed to plummet as he drummed his fingertips on the surface of the desk.
    Lord Mason Chatsworth was a handsome man. His face was finely chiseled, and his body was still firm and hard. His hair was devoid of powder, but otherwise his appearance was immaculate, as always. His pale blue satin cutaway coat had pearl buttons down the front, and his matching knee breeches had white trim down the side seam. He stood up slowly and motioned Season into a chair, while his angry green eyes never once left her face.
    Season still clutched her silver-handled riding whip in her hand as she sat on the edge of a red velvet chair, watching her father's every move.
    "Hello, Papa," she said in a small voice. "I'm glad you are home."
    He walked the length of the room and back before he stopped in front of Season. "Are you, miss? Are you indeed glad to see me?" he asked in a strangled voice.
    Season lowered her head. "Yes, Papa. I am always glad to see you."
    "You know why I'm here?" he demanded, reaching out, gripping her chin, and raising her face so she was forced to meet his eyes.
    "Yes, Papa."
    "Lord, I must be cursed to have such a daughter. I am thankful that your mother isn't alive to witness the shame you have brought upon this family. However, I suppose I have no one to blame but myself; I trusted you to act in a manner which would befit your station in life. I should have been more strict instead of being so indulgent with you."
    Season blinked in astonishment. By no stretch of the imagination had her father ever indulged her. True, she had been given everything that money could buy, but she had never had the pleasure of her father's company save for a few short weeks in the summer. Never had she had his love or indulgence.
    "Do you have the slightest notion what you have done, miss?" he asked pointedly.
    She raised her chin proudly. "Yes, Papa, I know exactly."
    "I don't think you do. Allow me to enlighten you. Because of your disgraceful performance, Lord Ransford has withdrawn his marriage agreement, and who can blame him?"
    "I was sure he would," Season said in a voice hardly above a whisper. Her father seemed to loom over her, bigger than life, and she didn't know what punishment he had in mind for her.
    "That's not all. Ransford has spread the most ungentlemanly tales about you, miss!"
    "I'm sorry that you are angry with me, Papa, but I'm not sorry that Lord Ransford has canceled his marriage contract with me. I decided I just couldn't marry that awful man."
    Her father's eyebrows shot up. "It wasn't your decision to make, Season. You are too young to know what's good for you."
    "Papa, I tried to talk to you about Lord Ransford, but you wouldn't listen to me. When you weren't looking, he would put his hands on me and make the most lewd statements. I... hated him."
    Lord Chatsworth's eyes darkened. "I suppose there was no reason to hope he would act charitably toward you. Perhaps he had already gotten wind of your reputation and saw no reason to treat you with respect. What is done cannot be undone, but you will rue