Love With a Scandalous Lord Read Online Free PDF Page A

as they looked.
    That she’d sensed a need to pull her brother and sister aside had taken him momentarily aback. He’d not meant to be frightening, but he’d berated himself as he strode through the manor and up the stairs, while his mother’s shrieking pierced his ears. He’d scolded himself for not warning her that he’d sent for Grayson, chided himself for not handling the matter in a more satisfactory manner.
    He’d put off what he’d known would be an unpleasant confrontation and, in so doing, had merely exacerbated the uncomfortable situation. His father would no doubt be seriously disappointed in his handling of the matter.
    As a result, he’d ascended the stairs with his anger threatening to escape the boundaries he’d placed on it. It had ignited his fury further to see Miss Westland’s reaction to his appearance and to know she’d accurately read the rage he’d tried unsuccessfully to conceal.
    He remembered reading a letter Grayson had written to his father years ago describing his new family. How old would the girl be now? Twenty? Twenty-one?
    A child really. Rhys would be wise to remember that and to forget the slight trembling in her fingers as he’d held her hand, the scent of her warm skin at her wrist, and the completely inappropriate flaring of desire in his own body at her nearness.
    “Please send them away, Rhys,” his mother begged once more, bringing him back to his current dilemma. “Please.”
    “The best I can offer is to ensure they are not in the west wing of the manor when you visit with Father. I’ll speak with Grayson and make arrangements for him and his family to take an outing each afternoon between the hours of two and five. You may visit with Father during that time, knowing you will not cross their paths.”
    She sniffed. “I shan’t dine with them.”
    “I hardly expected that you would. I shall have your meals delivered to your chambers as always.”
    She stared at the empty hearth, suddenly appearing defeated and vulnerable. “Why couldn’t he have loved me?”
     
    “Once again, I must apologize for Mother’s rather unpleasant behavior earlier this afternoon,” Rhys said as he poured port into two glasses.
    Only moments before, Grayson had joined him in the library, appearing more haggard and weary than he had upon his arrival. It could not be easy for him to see the deteriorating condition of the father who’d adored him.
    “I should have expected her outburst,” Grayson murmured. “I had assumed the respect I’ve earned in Texas would be evident in my bearing.”
    “It is,” Rhys assured him as he handed him a glass.
    He walked to the window and gazed out on the garden where Grayson’s wife and daughters were taking afternoon tea. If the rapid movement of her mouth was any indication, the younger one was talking excitedly, while the elder one gazed dreamily at something. The petals of a rose, perhaps, or the garden as a whole.Maybe in Texas they didn’t have gardens with no purpose other than to bring pleasure.
    Miss Westland’s delicate profile should be immortalized in marble. Her hair, the soft shade of a full moon on a winter’s night, was still held in place with a ribbon fashioned into a bow. Such a simple arrangement. Yet he found it incredibly enticing. The lure of innocence.
    He sipped his port before commenting. “You’ve a lovely family.”
    Coming to stand beside him, Grayson leaned against the wall and also gazed out. “Indeed, I’ve been most fortunate. Fate seems to have smiled upon you as well.”
    “It is a grim smile, if it is there at all.”
    “You may not believe this, but I was sorry to hear about Quentin’s death. Drowning cannot be an easy way to go.”
    “He was so far into his cups, he obviously didn’t notice. Apparently he had a nasty habit of drinking himself into oblivion. Had he fallen but two steps sooner, he would have missed the pond completely. Mother, of course, was devastated. Shortly afterward, Father