Love With a Scandalous Lord Read Online Free PDF Page B

had possessed an evil nature unlike any Grayson had ever encountered since.
    “Rhys was within his rights to admonish me. I stoodfirm in my disobedience on every matter save this one. I did as Father asked and would not entertain the thought of taking Rhys with me.”
    “Again, Grayson, he was not your child, not your responsibility.”
    He gave her a wry grin, and she sighed before saying, “Lydia, Johnny, and Micah are another matter.”
    The children John Westland, her first husband, had given her. They’d long ago won his heart.
    “I would protect them from all the unpleasantness in the world, Abbie. I should have extended the same consideration to Rhys.”
    “We could argue about this matter all day, but if you’re feeling guilty, then I’m not going to be able to convince you to let it go.”
    He stopped walking and pulled her into his arms. “Is that what we’re doing? Arguing?”
    Reaching up, she brushed her fingers—scarred from years of plucking bolls of cotton from the stalk—into his hair. “You can’t change what happened fifteen years ago, or what might have happened here after you left. Quentin is dead. Let him rest in peace.”
    “It’s not his peace that concerns me, but Rhys’s.”
    “You’re here to say good-bye to your father,” she reminded him.
    But his father had not awakened. Grayson had gazed on his shrunken features, held his withered hand, and spoken to him. To no avail.
    “I shouldn’t have waited so long to return.”
    “Considering the welcome you received, I’m surprised you returned at all. I shudder when I contemplate what your life must have been like while you lived here.”
    He smiled warmly, trailing his fingers lovingly overher face. “If not for my life here, I might never have had my life with you.”
    “Maybe the same will hold true for Rhys. In time he’ll come to appreciate what he gained by your leaving instead of wondering what he might have lost.”
    Grayson could only hope, but he thought it highly unlikely.
     
    “Why can’t you eat dinner with us , Lyd?” Sabrina asked in the singsong voice she used when she was disappointed.
    Lydia didn’t bother to look up from the books and papers she’d spread across the bed, where she sat with her legs folded beneath her—quite unladylike—and pillows mounded behind her back. She’d had to use a small stepstool to climb onto the canopied bed.
    “Because I’m no longer a child,” Lydia responded distractedly. “I’ve been invited to dine with the Marquess. And please, don’t call me Lyd while we’re here. It makes me sound as though I belong in the kitchen.”
    “But I’ve always called you Lyd.”
    At the hint of sadness in Sabrina’s voice, Lydia glanced over at her sister. She was sprawled on the floor, her sketch pad in front of her. She took such delight in drawing that Lydia always encouraged her.
    “I know you have,” she said kindly, “but we’re visiting an enchanted world. Lady Lydia sounds so much better than Lady Lyd. Don’t you think?”
    Sabrina scrunched up her pixie-like face. “But you’re not Lady Lydia.”
    “Not yet. But if I finish studying my books, then maybe I can be. Dining with the Marquess will be my first test.”
    She didn’t want to consider the debacle during theintroductions as a test since she’d failed miserably. Not only had she addressed the Marquess incorrectly, but she’d offered her hand. They should have merely bowed at each other.
    Staring into the Marquess of Blackhurst’s stormy gray eyes had somehow muddled her mind. This evening during dinner, she’d look at his nose. Although it was a very handsome nose, she didn’t think it would distract her as much as his eyes seemed to.
    She considered looking at his mouth, but she grew warm whenever she thought about how close it had come to kissing her hand. Of course, his nose had released the breath that had skimmed along her wrist like the first balmy breeze of summer. Maybe she’d be better