Rhonda Woodward Read Online Free PDF Page A

you say, Mariah. I like the earl,” George piped up from his place at the window seat.
    “What do you know?” She waved a dismissive hand in her little brother’s direction. “You only say so because he will let you play with the armor.”
    George sent her an impudent look.
    “Don’t you think Heaton is grand, Mariah?” Steven asked.
    “Well, I confess that as we came up the drive I thought the grounds lovely in all their autumn glory. And the house, if one can call such a vast place a house, is impressive and beautiful. It does not seem the least bit drafty, especially compared to the Inn last night. But we do not know anyone here, and you know Mama’s overt matchmaking will only put me to the blush.”
    Steven shrugged. “I can understand your frustration. However, I am looking forward to spending a few weeks in these splendid surroundings. We have not been here above a few hours, and I have already received a note from the earl inviting me to join the hunt tomorrow.”
    “Lovely,” Mariah pronounced with a sarcastic edge. “The men will be hunting all day, enjoying this bracing weather, while the ladies stay trapped indoors with nothing to do but gossip.”
    “Didn’t you bring your needlework or sketchbook?”
    “Yes, I did. Maybe I will take my sketchbook to the lake I saw in the distance from my bedchamber window.”
    “We can always explore the house,” George suggested.
    “Yes, that should take days, at least. For now, I wish to explore the grounds.” She rose and left the room with both her brothers frowning after her.
    ***
    After several hours Mariah felt she had had a good stretch of her legs. Under any other circumstances she would have certainly enjoyed a visit to this amazingly beautiful place.
    As she slowly strolled along a meandering gravel path that led from the house to a lake and woodland, she hugged her leather sketch case to her chest against the biting chill.
    If she found Heaton this hauntingly beautiful beneath gray skies and with half-dead leaves rattling in the wind, then what would it look like in the budding of spring, the abundance of summer? Mariah fairly itched to pull out her sketchbook and pencils, for at every turn some new prospect or angle would inspire her to another page.
    Dejectedly, she knew that little time remained before she would need to prepare for dinner. With dread, she forced herself to contemplate the evening ahead.
    If entertaining at Heaton followed the fashion of other country house parties she had attended over the years, everyone would gather in one of the salons before dinner. This would give the guests a chance to visit before being paired up at the dinner table.
    Those moments always made Mariah feel awkward because her mama usually started throwing out nonetoo-subtle hints about the size of her dowry.
    Now that Mama knew the earl had lost a fortune gambling last Season, Mariah feared that her mother’s inferences would be even less subtle.
    In addition, Mariah felt nervous about the stultifying sense of shyness that sometimes overcame her. Despite feeling at ease among her family and close friends, she tended to be shy among strangers. She found it rather odd, because her parents were both wonderfully open and gregarious.
    Papa, although not as verbose as Mama, fancied himself as something of a local squire and loved nothing better than the local assembly balls. The parties at home often lasted until the wee hours.
    Mariah had never been blessed with easy manners among company. Occasionally, she struggled with a certain paralyzing self-consciousness that nothing seemed to ease. In cases such as tonight, she usually tried to attach herself to a lively older woman. Lively older ladies loved Mariah because she listened to their gossip with avid attention and never spoke of herself.
    Of late, she had pondered the reason for her shyness, for it caused her no end of distress. She had known since childhood that her parents loved her dearly, but they had