Cecilia Grant - [Blackshear Family 03] Read Online Free PDF Page A

no consequence. And please not to mention it to our mother and father.” Beneath her brusque dismissal was such desperation, such raw, heart-piercing humiliation, as made Kate want to seize something and tear it to pieces.
    All she had for that was
Pride and Prejudice
, still clutched in one hand. The volumes felt awkward now, unwieldy. Heavy and sharp cornered and crammed full of wishful fancy.
    She would not tear them. A lady didn’t destroy library property. But if
she
were ever to write a novel, it would be the opposite of a love story. Her hero and heroine would choose duty over their hearts’ desire, that their children need never be taxed for a romantic indulgence that was none of their own.
    A cold wind rushed down from the late-afternoon sky, and Kate caught her cloak edges together with her free hand. Yes, the very opposite of a romance would be the story to warm her heart. Something full of prudent choices and practical considerations. Something where people consulted their heads and kept a tight rein on their sentiments.
    She huddled deeper into her cloak. Men thought her unfeeling, she knew.
Heartless
, Mr. Blackshear had pronounced her, the last time he’d come to call. Of course he’d laughed as he’d said it, good-natured and brotherly, though they both knew he had reason to mean it.
    Well, be that as it would. She carried enough already, what with worrying for her younger sisters’ welfare, scheming to make connections that could better all their prospects, and striving to somehow mend the great rift in Papa’s family. She had neither time nor energy enoughto feel guilty for every young man she’d disappointed. They’d surely all go on to find girls who could afford the luxury of marrying for love, and they’d be happier than they ever could have been with her.
    Beauty faded, after all, and with it, the love it had inspired. A beautiful woman did well to be heartless. And if she hadn’t quite attained the state herself, at least she could make such a show as would convince all the rest of the world.

T HE NEWS of opportunity did not wait for port. That was the way at the Westbrook table. As in the dining halls at the Inns of Court, spirited conversation must accompany the meal, and business, not the mundane niceties of a dinner party, must be the consuming topic.
    “Barclay is the fellow’s name, and his title now as well.” Mr. Westbrook went right on carving up his cutlet while delivering this, the intelligence that had warranted Nick’s invitation. “He means to turn his seat in the House to some purpose, one can see. No gradually learning the lay of the land, and certainly no giving his votes to a proxy. He’s resolved to attend regularly, and to argue bills and even introduce them, just as soon as he’s acquired a tolerable proficiency in the requisite skills.”
    Here was everything to awaken his approval. There
were
skills pertinent to the responsibilities of a parliamentary seat, and precious few men, from what he’d heard and occasionally observed, ever troubled to improve their mastery of those skills. Lord Barclay showed promise already.
    “Is he Tory or Whig, this baron?” Across the table,Miss Viola inclined slightly forward in her chair, the merest accent of distaste on the word
baron
. Miss Viola had opinions about rank and privilege, and no hesitation in making those opinions known. “What sorts of bills does he mean to introduce?”
    “His letter did not disclose a party affiliation, but he seems to take a particular interest in matters of public welfare. Especially—as might be expected from a former military man—the welfare of returned soldiers.” Westbrook nodded down the table at Nick. “You shall see the letter for yourself, over our port, and glean what you can of his political leanings.”
    “I would think his affiliation might be the same as his brother’s.” The eldest Miss Westbrook usually kept silent, with a look of graceful forbearance, when the