Lord Heartless Read Online Free PDF Page A

market or to church.”
    The horse nudged her hand.
    “Sorry, no treats today.”
    “Ah, wait.”
    She pulled a curl that made its freedom from her bun away from her face and watched as he produced a sugar cube from his pocket.
    “Here.” He placed the cube into her palm.
    “This is what you were doing when we called to you from the hallway? Pilfering my sugar?”
    He shrugged.
    Palm flat, she extended her hand and the horse took the treat.
    “Lady Juliet, I have a proposition for you.”
    The world seemed to stop spinning. Juliet’s heart took a painful beat and slowed. This is where he shall ask me to be his mistress in return for taking my home . Mouth dry, she swallowed. “Proposition?” she repeated and stroked the horse’s neck. “I am not in the habit of entertaining propositions from men of high birth or low.”
    “No, I suppose you are not.” He waited a beat and it gave her time to think.
    She wondered if he could hear the gears of her mind shifting to find the logical response. When she did not reply, he spoke again.
    “Let me assure you, this is something that will benefit us both.” He glanced back at the reverend and his wife mulling behind them closing the gap. “Is there a quiet place where I can speak to you uninterrupted?”
    Juliet’s gaze followed his. Not wishing to cause any more scandal than necessary, she declined his offer of privacy. “The reverend and his wife are speaking to Mr. Black. I believe you are free to speak.” She caught the bobble of his cravat as if what he swallowed was so thick it would not go down. Good , she mused. He was embarrassed—as he should be, putting her father in that position. Then, her conscious raised its head and Juliet added, “Besides, if we were to disappear, it would cause more of a twitter. Neither of us can support the addition of another waggle of a gossip’s tongue.”
    “So be it.” He gave a nod.
    “After your father’s death, something was delivered to my solicitor.”
    “Delivered?”
    “Yes, a note.” He opened his coat and removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Your father asked me for pity.”
    His words caused a slow boil of anger to rise. She pulled her cloak tighter about her body. “So like my father, expecting others to take up the slack.”
    “Perhaps.” He focused on the note. “His death has left both of us in a precarious position. I am seen as the black-hearted rake swooping down in order to fill his pockets with ill-gotten gain.”
    “Aren’t you?” Their conversation skipped a beat.
    “Far from it,” he assured her. “Here.”
    She reached out and took the paper. Turning away, she unfolded the letter, recognizing the shaken pen strokes, the blotches of ink where he forgot to tap the side of the well. London’s favorite drunk, yet he was still her father. In a single moment, her heart rose and plummeted with the lines he had written.
    “I ask, sir, that a man of your noble station, do what is right.” She drew her eyes away and stared at Landon. “Do what is right? You cannot be serious.”
    “Oh, but I am. You see both of us have our dark marks. You, your father’s death by his own hand.” He sighed. “My reputation, one foolishly sculpted and destined never to go away.”
    “So for that matter you are serious….” She stared down once again at the paper before looking up into his intense stare. “Lord Montague, this no spontaneous gesture given today and taken away tomorrow.”
    Landon gaze focused on her face. “Have you tried to get a job?”
    Juliet straightened her shoulders. “I have.”
    “You have had no luck.”
    His comment was made matter of fact, as if he knew all along what the outcome had been. Juliet could feel the earth pull the corners of her mouth toward the ground. Her heart tightened and she replied, “None. But I suppose you knew that already.” Her words were short and clipped, which brought on a sigh from the man standing beside her. If possible, at