Rhonda Woodward Read Online Free PDF

always intended for her to marry very well. Not just a respectable gentleman from a good family—no, her parents, especially her mama, wanted nothing less than a title.
    Papa, the son of a farmer, had worked long hours for decades to make his business endeavors successful. Her parents had made it clear to her from an early age that they expected to move among superior society, and for that desire to be fulfilled Mariah must marry a well-connected gentleman.
    As Mariah grew and her promise of beauty came to fruition, Mama expanded her goals. Nothing less than a peer of the realm would suffice.
    Mariah was always painfully aware of her mother’s eagle eye upon her, and every social gathering became a test of her poise. If she spent too much time in conversation with a young man who was insufficiently pedigreed, Mama would swoop in and pull her away.
    Soon friends began to avoid her—all except Julia Allard, who had remained her closest friend all through those difficult years. Mariah missed Julia terribly, but happiness overrode her sadness, for Julia was now blissfully wed to the Duke of Kelbourne.
    Mariah determined to sit down soon and write a letter to Julia apprising her old friend of her stay at Heaton, the home of the Duke of Kelbourne’s good friend. Maybe Julia would have a bit of advice for her.
    The fact that Julia Allard had married so astoundingly well had only fueled Mama’s desperate hope that Mariah would do the same. After all, her mother had often pointed out, Julia had not had the added advantage of a large portion.
    Shaking off these depressing thoughts, Mariah continued her tour of the grounds.
    Despite the fading day and the looming dinner, Mariah wandered farther, to the stand of trees on the south side of the lake. A chill wind rustled the burnt orange leaves of several ancient-looking chestnut trees. Breathing in the crisp air, she halted by a fallen tree and set her leather case upon it.
    Turning slightly, she saw the imposing north-facing edifice of the mansion with its striking gate tower. Perfectly situated on an expansive rise, Heaton seemed to stretch to the horizon. The late-afternoon sun cast a silver gleam over the gray, age-mellowed stone.
    The place exuded an air of imposing elegance and a sense of history. Mariah could easily envision knights in shining armor, with colorful banners waving in the wind, riding toward the porte cochere.
    In spite of all of this grandness, a deep peacefulness emanated from the ancient house and grounds.
    Sitting on the fallen log, with the trees around her intermittently dropping their vivid leaves, she continued to contemplate the Earl of Haverstone’s home. She wondered if a man like the earl could really appreciate such a place, or if the beauty constantly around him went unnoticed.
    As the shadows grew and the chill deepened, she realized that she could no longer delay returning. She would probably be late, and Mama would ring a peal over her head. Rising from the log, she picked up her leather case.
    Hang dinner
, she thought.
I am not rushing back
.

Chapter Four
    “So you and your family live in Chippenham? How sweet. I believe there are lots of sheep in Chippenham,” Lady Walgrave said, leaning across the massive dining table, her blond hair burnished gold in the candlelight.
    “Indeed. Probably more sheep than people,” Mariah replied dryly, reaching to pick up her crystal wine goblet.
    Casting a quick glance up the table, Mariah felt relief that Mama had not heard Lady Walgrave’s comment. If she had, she would probably have announced that the Thorncrofts owned most of those sheep.
    Mariah shifted anxiously in her chair, feeling completely out of her element. Ever since she sat down to dinner, it had been utterly apparent that she had nothing in common with these people. The earl had obviously invited friends from his set: all of them sophisticated, brittle, and witty.
    After an hour in their company, only the sheer beauty of the room and the