Bridal Favors Read Online Free PDF Page B

good deal more than sympathy to incite me into allowing a bunch of Yanks to invade the familial sanctuary.”
    “That’s terrible! I bet you sound just like your grandfather,” Evelyn declared hotly, drawing a startled, if appreciative, glance from Justin. “Besides, you yourself said it was a ghastly old place. Well, I will transform it.”
    “I don’t want it transformed. I like ghastly old places.”
    “Now you’re being arbitrary. Come, I won’t hurt your old abbey. I’ll ship in my boxes of trims and trappings and such and when we’re done, I’ll ship it all out again leaving the place cleaner, neater, and probably in a good deal better repair. All at Mrs. Vandervoort’s expense.”
    An unreadable expression stole across Justin’s face. He crossed his arms over his chest. He had very nice arms, the muscles moved smoothly beneath his skin. “When would you want to be renting the place?”
    “Next month.” She held her breath.
    He threw up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of defeat. “Now, that
is
too bad. I really am sorry. Any other time and I might have been able to accommodate you.”
    She stared at him. She’d almost had the abbey. Instead, what she saw was her aunt’s reputation slipping into infamy. “What’s wrong with next month?”
    “Next month is April,” Justin said patiently. “
I
always spend April at North Cross Abbey.”
    She couldn’t believe this. “And it would be too much trouble to go, say, in June? Which is a much more convivial month to spend in the country, I might point out.”
    “No,” he said. “The migrations will be over by June.”
    “Migrations? As in birds? You have to be teasing me!” She’d been so close to redeeming herself. “You’re not going to refuse me because of a bunch of birds?”
    “I’m sure you understand.”
    “No!
You
don’t understand. I’ll pay you. Enough so that you could spend April in some nice, cozy little cottage anywhere in England. One
with
porcelain facilities.”
    “Sorry,” he said. “Love to oblige. Can’t.”
    He
had
to oblige. This was her only chance to restore Whyte’s good name. After the last two debacles, she couldn’t
give
her services away. But if she pulled this off and impressed the international set that constantly moved with and around Mrs. Vandervoort, English society would once again be pounding down the mahogany door of Whyte’s Nuptial Celebrations.
    She steeled her resolve. She was sorry it had come to this. But a woman had to do what a woman had to do.
    “You
have
to let me rent the place.” She dug into the pocket of her knickers and produced a yellowing note card.
    “I do?” His dark brows climbed again. “And why is that?”
    She handed him the card. “Because I’m turning in your marker.”

Chapter 3
     

     
    JUSTIN ACCEPTED THE note card and read the elegant scrawl of his own hand. “Why, of course! You’re the owlet!”
    “Excuse me?”
    “The owlet!” he repeated exuberantly. “Broughton’s unexpected progeny. The little girl with the dowager’s manner. Ellie? Ivy?”
    “Evelyn.”
    He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. Evie.”
    “Evelyn,” she corrected him. No one called her Evie, not even her family. She was the least Evie-like person in the world. Evies were demure, pretty, and shapely. She was . . . well, she wasn’t an Evie.
    “Will you honor your note, Mr. Powell?” she asked, ignoring his nonsense.
    He leaned back, his hands curling around the edge of the counter, and smiled cheerfully. “I say, has it occurred to you that your ‘request’ is remarkably like extortion?”
    “A bit,” she admitted. “I’d hoped to be spared this—”
    “
You’d
hoped to be spared?”
    She contrived to look wounded. “You gave me no choice. You should have been gallant when you had the opportunity.”
    “Forgive me.”
    “Besides,” she said, “if I were you, I’d have expected something like this. I mean, a woman who would break into your house is