La Flamme (Historical Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

"But I thought Lord Woodbridge had only one daughter, and she was much older. Was I misinformed?"
    "You were not misinformed, madame. I am my father's only daughter."
    Eugenia stared at the girl long and hard. Was this some kind of jest? She was only a child; how could she possibly be Garreth's wife? And she was certainly no beauty. Eugenia tried to see her as Garreth might. There was nothing outstanding about her. She was such a tiny little thing, and so childlike. And as for her hair, men didn't like females with red hair. No, Garreth would not have taken such a child for his wife.
    "You must think me rude, but may I ask your name?"
    "Forgive me, madame, I should have introduced myself right away. I am Sabine Blackthorn."
    Eugenia clamped her mouth together, trying unsuccessfully to bring her sudden rage under control. "Garreth's wife!" she shouted. "That cannot be! He would never marry someone like you. You are not even passingly pretty."
    Sabine blinked at the unkind words that had been spoken with such venom. "Nevertheless, madame, I am the duchess of Balmarough. Garreth Blackthorn is my husband."
    For a moment Eugenia could not speak as her glacial gaze fastened on the ring the girl wore. There was no mistaking the coat of arms; it was Garreth's. There arose in Eugenia a compulsive need to punish the girl that had taken her love from her. "I can see why Garreth has not taken you to reside at Wolfeton Keep," she said spitefully. "He could hardly show you off to his friends, could he?"
    Raising her head and staring squarely into the woman's eyes, Sabine realized this had to be the woman Garreth loved. "Lady Meredith?" she asked, already guessing her identity.
    "So you have heard of me?" Eugenia replied with satisfaction. "I hope it will not take long to repair my coach," she sighed, plucking at the lace on the cuff of her gown and giving Sabine a sidelong glance. "Garreth always worries so if I am detained." Then she reached out and placed a cold hand on Sabine's arm. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said that."
    Sabine hardly knew how to answer such viciousness. "I will not keep you waiting," she said with quiet dignity. "You will understand if I retract the invitation to my home. I will, however, send someone to assist you."
    Eugenia's voice was shrill. "Insolent brat!"
    "Good day, My Lady," Sabine said, fighting back tears. She turned toward home and limped away, wishing she could close out the malicious laughter that followed her.
    "Garreth could never love you!" Eugenia cried. "He loves me!"
    Sabine paused and turned back to her, now more angry than hurt. "If you believe that, why did you take such drastic means to make my acquaintance? If you had wanted an invitation to my home, you need not have troubled to disable your coach. You could have come to the front door."
    Sabine walked with her head high, and her eyes on her home in the distance. She resisted the impulse to clasp her hands over her ears to shut out the hurtful words that followed her.
    "You are nothing but a cripple. Garreth must loath the sight of you." Eugenia fell quiet, suddenly realizing that she had lost. Sabine Blackthorn might be young and she might not be a beauty, but she was Garreth's duchess.
    Sabine was still shaking when she was in sight of the castle. Rather than going inside, she made her way to the stable, where she found the head groom.
    "Go at once to the outer road where you will find a coach in need of repair and lend what assistance you can. And whatever you do, do not invite the lady to Woodbridge. She is not welcome here."
    The groom nodded in obedience although he found her request rather odd. "I will see to it at once, Your Grace."
     
    Cortland Blackthorn sat in the common room of the Duck and Fox Inn, his feet extended toward the warmth of the hearth. He raised a tankard of ale to his lips as he watched the door, waiting. An hour passed and then another. He had drunk too much and he raised his voice, demanding more ale.
    The brawny