A Scandalous Proposal Read Online Free PDF Page B

clearly showed. A woman had but one other asset.
    She recalled his heated glances, his lingering hand on her lip. She had seen lust in other men’s eyes, during and after her marriage. If she could bring herself to offer, would Cheverley accept that means of canceling her debt?
    For an instant, she imagined those hands cherishing her bare skin, that lean mouth at her breast. A deep tremor sent heat rushing through her.
    A flush of guilt succeeded it and she felt as if caught out in some unforgivable indiscretion.
    Nonsense, ’twas ridiculous. She could not be unfaithful to a dead man.
    Oh, but I didn’t want him to die, her heart cried back. How many times had she gone down on her knees on the rough stone of the village church, imploring God as Andrew’s life drained away breath by ragged, painful breath? Promising to go anywhere, do anything, if only God would spare him?
    Well, her prayers had been for naught. At the end, her husband had died in that small dusty village. And if God had not heeded her desperate pleas then, He was hardly likely to concern Himself with Emily Spenser Waring-Black now.
    No, if salvation came, she would have to arrange it herself. And while her shop teetered so precariously betweensuccess and failure, having, for a time, a rich protector to keep trouble away could only help.
    The very idea of it ate at her soul like acid.
    She gave a bitter laugh. For years while she scraped together the funds to return and open her shop, she’d managed to avoid the fate so often dealt beautiful but impoverished widows. How ironic that it threatened her now, back in the homeland she’d pined for and imagined a haven.
    â€œMistress, ’tis darkness you work in,” Francesca scolded as she entered. “And your tea, é frio! Another pot will I fetch, and light up the lamp. What’s to become of us, querida, if you lose those bright eyes?”
    â€œWhat’s to become of us anyway?” Emily replied, more than a hint of despair in her tone. “And don’t make fresh tea—we can scarce afford what we drink now. I’ll make do with this.”
    The maid sat herself on the desktop and, head tilted like a small brown bird, gazed down at her mistress. “Be of good heart, querida. Always, we have worries, but always, you prevail. We shall—how you English say it? Ah, yes, we shall come into.”
    Emily had to smile. “Come about, I believe you mean. And I wish I had your optimism. Just now, I am having a difficult time imagining how we shall ever come about.”
    â€œYesterday, that porco threatens you, and today, poof—” the maid waved an expressive hand “—he is gone. Other worries, they too will go.”
    â€œâ€™Twill take more than a—” Emily stopped abruptly. “What know you of Mr. Harding?”
    Francesca shrugged. “I hear things, yes? When I hear that voice, I come. I see what he does. Almost I am running to you, but then, the beautiful one arrives. And saves you.”
    â€œAye,” Emily said in a whisper. “But for what?”
    The maid raised her eyebrows, as if the answer were alltoo plain. “He is a great lord, querida. He saves you for his honor.”
    Emily made a scornful noise. “Heaven preserve us from the ‘honor’ of great lords!” She turned accusing eyes toward her maid. “Or have you forgotten, Francesca?”
    â€œNot all lords threaten like the padre of your husband. Also I remember Don Alvero. He would have had you for his lady wife, would you but pledge your troth. But no, we must return to this—” nose wrinkling, she made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the tiny office “—this England. ”
    â€œIncomprehensible to you, I expect.” Emily smiled as she squeezed Francesca’s still-outstretched hand. “Dearest friend, to have left your homeland to follow me! I thought we could build a future here, that at