How to Seduce a Scot Read Online Free PDF Page A

the time, nor could she hear herself think over her mother’s latest shriek.
    â€œCatherine, these lilies of the valley are from Lord Farleigh! My word, girl, you have made a conquest there.”
    Catherine felt a warm light come into her chest, and she smiled. But there was no exultation, no exuberance. She realized two things then: that she could one day marry Lord Farleigh, or a man very much like him…and that she would be disappointed to do so.
    She pushed those nonsensical thoughts out of her head to better hear her mother read the card from the second bouquet. “These forget-me-nots and primroses are from A. Waters . My word, the Highland gentleman who waltzed with you last night!”
    Catherine felt her skin heat. The warm light in her chest turned into a conflagration, and spread in a blush up her chest and neck and into her cheeks. She suddenly felt light-headed, though she had never fainted in her life. Mr. Waters had not spoken to her again after their dance and her presentation to Lady Jersey. Surely, out of all the men she had met the night before, those flowers could not possibly be from him.
    She stepped forward and took the note in her hand. The slanted A made her think of an eagle in flight, and the terse Waters made her think of the burn behind their castle in Scotland. Catherine wondered what a burn was. Mary Elizabeth had mentioned fishing in it, so perhaps it was some sort prehistoric stream that led to wild delights, like the Loch Ness Monster or some such fanciful creature. Mr. Waters had written nothing but his name, but Catherine was certain that he had written the note himself.
    Before Catherine could completely lose herself to giddy fancy, her mother cawed anew. Catherine saw her brandishing the note from a third bouquet of deep red roses.
    â€œThese flowers are for me!”
    Catherine felt her color rise even as her stomach sank. What gentleman would send vulgar red roses to a respectable widow? She swallowed hard, trying to hide her sudden nerves. Surely they had not run across some unsavory cad in the middle of Almack’s who might prey on her mother’s sensibilities? As her mother was in raptures over the inappropriate flowers before her, she did not notice Catharine’s concern, but Margaret did. She sidled up silently to Catherine and took her hand.
    Mrs. Middlebrook was still speaking, beginning to preen. “I am still an attractive woman, girls. I am not completely off the market yet.” She tittered. “Perhaps they are from the Duke of Wellington. How romantic!”
    â€œGod forbid,” Catherine murmured under her breath while Margaret laughed.
    â€œThe duke is married, Mama,” Margaret said. Catherine herded both her mother and her sister back into the breakfast room, determined to get some food into them. Mrs. Middlebrook refused to relinquish her flowers, and brought the vulgar bouquet with her. Catherine wanted to bring Mr. Waters’s flowers too, but that would have been foolish. She shut the breakfast door on the bouquets with a decided click.
    â€œOf course the duke is married,” Mrs. Middlebrook said. She took a large bite of buttered toast while Catherine poured her a fresh cup of tea, adding a liberal number of sugar cubes and cream, just as her mother liked it. “He took a wife for purely dynastic reasons, as all great men do. Our liaison would be pure romance, a love for the ages, like Tristan and Isolde.”
    â€œOr Romeo and Juliet,” Margaret added, taking another dollop of blackberry jam.
    Catherine shot her sister a quelling look, which Margaret blithely ignored.
    â€œThose characters all ended up dead,” Catherine pointed out.
    â€œYour soul has no romance.” Her mother sniffed, taking a sip of her fresh tea.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mama. No doubt you are right.” Catherine drank her own tea and watched as her mother dimpled, ire forgotten just as suddenly as it appeared. In spite of