Larken Read Online Free PDF

and far less charm. Would it have hurt him to greet her politely or to acknowledge her efforts on his ward’s behalf? With a sound of frustration, she removed the puppets from her hands, arranged them on a shelf, and went to change her clothes.

    Brandon chuckled and shook his head as he strode down the hall. Surprisingly attractive Larken was, and more spirited than he would have imagined for a mail-order bride. At the wedding, he’d gone through the motions of what needed to be done and hadn’t even noticed her face. His vague impression of her appearance at the time—gleaned from the corner of his eye—was only a slender young woman with fair hair. Today, he’d had a better look.
    Larken. A pretty name, and extraordinarily unusual.
    His valet prepared a bath to wash off the dust of the road. As Brandon relaxed in the hot water, he thought about his new wife. She hadn’t seemed glad to see him—resentful was more like it—but he didn’t blame her. His cold manner at the marriage ceremony must have been obvious to everyone, certainly, and to her most of all. A pang of remorse reached his consciousness, but he brushed it away. The girl had been made aware of his disinterest in her before agreeing to wed. Besides which, if her ragged garment was any indication, the marriage had improved her condition in life drastically. He oughtn’t feel any guilt. None whatsoever. Nor should he feel any guilt regarding the boy. Myles had been retrieved at great personal cost, and Brandon had undertaken the responsibility of seeing to the lad’s needs. Every so often, he’d check on the lad to make sure he was happy, and that’s all he was required to do. No, he’d done his painful, emotionally wrenching duty, and now he just wanted to be left alone.

    Larken gathered her hair up and out of the way so Nell could fasten the buttons on her dress. Her eyes fell onto the garment she’d just removed.
    “You might as well take the other dress for a cleaning rag. Mr. King didn’t approve of it.”
    Nell giggled. “I’m not surprised.”
    “I wouldn’t have worn that dress if I’d known he’d see it. I’d no idea he was arriving today.”
    “The staff was caught by surprise as well.” Nell finished with the last button. “Your tea is ready in your sitting room.”
    “Is Myles having tea with me?”
    Nell shook her head. “He’s curled up on his bed, poor lamb, and won’t talk to anyone.”
    “Perhaps I can coax him out.”
    “I hope so, Mrs. King. Would you like to me to fix your hair?”
    “No, I’ll do it. You go on ahead.”
    Larken sat at the vanity, drew the brush through her tresses, and plaited them into a loose golden braid. The less forbidding she looked, the better. No doubt Mr. King had frightened the poor child out of his wits with his surly manner, snapping dark eyes, and untamed mass of unruly hair. Before she left, she remembered to slip on her wedding ring. The feeling of the unyielding metal against her skin was unpleasant. The gold band felt more like a dog collar than a token of eternal love.

    She hastened across the hall and tapped on Myles’ door, but there was no response. Undaunted, she entered the room, where a small boy was curled up into a ball on his four-poster bed, facing away from her.
    “Hello,” she said. “My name is Larken.”
    Silence.
    She came around the far side of the bed, until she could see the boy’s face. He was an uncommonly handsome lad, albeit extraordinarily sad. Smiling, she perched herself on the side of the bed, but he gave no indication he noticed her at all.
    “You and I have a lot in common,” she said. “We’re both orphans.”
    His eyes shifted from a spot on the wall to her face. “But you’re old. Old people don’t have parents.”
    The boy had a foreign accent. He wasn’t English, that much she could tell. How far had Mr. King traveled to bring him here?
    “I’m only thirteen years older than you are,” she said. “My parents died four years