No Marriage of Convenience Read Online Free PDF Page B

trouble. They’d be lucky if they had enough left over to stage a puppet show.
    “Are you familiar with the conditions of this loan?” he asked.
    Riley tipped her head back and smiled sweetly, hoping the look would succeed in dazzling him out of his current line of inquiry. To her annoyance, it didn’t seem to distract him in the least.
    A handsome nobleman impervious to her charms?
    Oh, she was in more than trouble.
    “Well, I think so…” she faltered, stalling for time. Maybe if she lifted the edge of her skirt a little and revealed a bit of ankle—goodness knows, that fair sight had kept the printer in abeyance for over four months.
    But before she could put her plan into action, he frowned at her ever so slightly, rustled the papers with an important air, and spoke. “This contract shows that you owe me the opening night receipts from a fortnight ago.”
    Her hands curled into tight balls. “We’ve had some unforeseen difficulties which have prevented us from opening on time. I assure you, we will be in full production within a month. And then you shall have your money.”
    “What, and have you run up more bills in the meantime? No, that will never do.” Lord Ashlin shook his head, sending one of his golden brown locks straying out of its mercantile and orderly queue—giving him a rakish air and lending her hope that he truly was an Ashlin, not some foundling foisted onto the estate to maintain the lineage, as she was starting to suspect.
    “Besides,” he continued, “with your payments overdue, that puts this loan in default. According to this paragraph here,” he said, pointing to a subsection in small print, “I’m entitled to collect the total amount due immediately, with penalties.”
    “But I have no more cash, other than what I’ve brought,” she replied too quickly.
    This appeared to stop him for a moment, until he glanced over at the gold-filled pouch on his desk. “Then you’ll have to find some other means of raising it. Perhaps your theatre company has props or costumes which can be sold?”
    Riley looked down, pausing for a moment to prepare for the performance of her life. There was too much at stake here, and she’d do anything to save her theatre—from Lord Ashlin and the other problems which had plagued her these past months.
    Searching her repertoire of characters, she glanced once more at Lord Ashlin and settled into what she hoped would be a role to touch even his stony heart.
    Slowly raising a handkerchief, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes delicately, adding a small sniff and a quiver to her lips.
    “I…I…I only meant my meager offering as a token of kindness for the immeasurable consideration your brother bestowed upon the arts. Think of his memory, my lord. This play, our production, is a memorial to him—his charity, his fine works, his dedication.” She looked upward at the plaster ceiling, a pleading glance meant to evoke the most benevolent of emotions, while her fingers clutched her handkerchief to her breast. “Now I fear my gesture is lost on his successor and will be the ruin of my poor beloved company.” She dropped her gaze to the wool rug, not daring to hope her speech had worked.
    From the sobbing and sniffling across the room, his cousin had more than enjoyed the performance.
    “Oh, Mason, you can’t close Madame Fontaine’s theatre,” the woman wailed. “We would be shunned by everyone in London.” She turned to Riley. “Madame Fontaine, please forgive my cousin. He’s been at Oxford these many years and doesn’t understand how things are done.” She turned back to Lord Ashlin, shaking her finger as if he were a recalcitrant schoolboy. “What would people say? It just isn’t done! Not at all.”
    “Cousin,” he said, “Madame Fontaine owes us a great deal of money. Money better spent…well, say, on the girls. For all that finery and those lessons you think are so necessary for finding husbands.”
    “That much?” Cousin Felicity