Loving Lady Marcia Read Online Free PDF Page A

she were the center of an intriguing universe of which he was an exciting part. She’d been secretly flattered and had felt an urge to explore that world … to explore him .
    She couldn’t believe she was thinking along such lines and almost wished for the earl of old, the one who’d had his nose buried in a book in that carriage or been distracted by his duties as a peer of the realm. That Lord Chadwick she could easily dismiss out of hand.
    And dismissal was her primary aim in matters involving men. She’d been hopelessly compromised by Finn, so she was beyond the pale. Whether anyone else knew it or not, she did. She’d never forget how carelessly she’d fallen in love, how quickly she’d sacrificed her future on the altar of passion.
    Marriage, for her, was no longer an option. And no matter how hard her family pressed her to become engaged, she swore to herself she would never trick an unsuspecting man into marrying her—would never lure anyone into believing she was the sweet, innocent, eldest Brady daughter—only to discover afterward that she wasn’t a virgin.
    That wasn’t her idea of living an authentic life.
    No. She’d had her romantic love, and now it was behind her, thank God—it and all the hurts that ensued as a result of succumbing to it.
    She’d flung herself into a new role. She was a headmistress now. A leader of girls. A protector of an institution, guardian of a legacy. And the longer she held her position, the greater her craving to see young women launched on a trajectory of success.
    Her maid gazed up at the ornate ceiling, her eyes like saucers.
    “Good thing we don’t have naked male cherubs on the ceilings of the classrooms at Oak Hall,” Marcia told the family butler with an ironic twist to her mouth. “We’d never get any work done.”
    She allowed him to take her things.
    “Welcome home, Lady Marcia,” he said with touching fervor.
    “Thank you, Burbank.” She took advantage of the fact that he was trapped holding her packages, bonnet, and spencer and kissed his cheek. “I’d like to surprise Mama, so I’ll wait in the drawing room.”
    “Very good, my lady.”
    She sent her maid to the kitchens for tea. Burbank instructed a footman to find her mother. And then he instructed another footman in the stiffest of tones to ensure that a proper tea tray was prepared, one that included currant buns with extra icing.
    They were her favorite, Burbank knew. Although of course, nothing was said aloud . It wasn’t done for a butler to speak of his fondness for a certain, oft-absent young lady of the household.
    As the servants dispersed to fulfill their various requirements, Marcia was more aware than ever that she’d given up this pampered London life and instead had taken up one that involved a great deal of labor and sacrifice. With startling clarity—considering that she found herself in the most mundane of domestic situations, sitting alone on an expansive ivory silk sofa and waiting for her mother—she realized exactly why she’d undergone such a formidable change.
    It was so she could tell that wretched Duncan Lattimore, the next time she saw him, how fulfilled she was, how over her painful past she was.
    Today had been that day. She’d no idea how intensely she’d longed for such a meeting to happen, how well she’d prepared herself—years and years of activity designed to prove she was capable and whole despite his reckless interference in her life and in Finn’s.
    She closed her eyes, waiting for vindication to sweep over her.
    And felt nothing.
    Oh, God. What did it mean … that she felt nothing?
    Delicate footsteps rang down the hall, and she opened her eyes. She wouldn’t think of anything but what she felt at the sound of those footsteps, which was excitement. Love. And a little bit of affectionate tension.
    Mama appeared at the drawing room door, a vision in pale blue, her fair, almost white-blond hair swept up in an elaborate coif. “Oh, darling,