Romancing the Countess Read Online Free PDF Page A

and skeptical as a result of her marriage, she’d always been dutiful, hadn’t she?
    Yet the moment before her elbow crooked and her fingers began their descent, she hesitated.
    At Linley Park in Wiltshire, the George estate where she’d withdrawn after attending to Ian’s parents, she’d become accustomed to obeying no one’s wishes but her own. Maintaining a pretense of mourning was unnecessary with a small retinue of servants who made themselves invisible.
    By day she did as she liked, following each and every whim as it occurred. She ate according to her own pleasure, dictating both the time and the substance; there was no need to plan menus to suit Ian’s palate, or to guess whether he would actually appear for meals. She could curl up in a window seat all afternoon with a book or go for long, aimless walks over the chalk hills. Gone were the social calls which required her to chatter and smile on cue and agree indeed, she was the most fortunate woman to be married to Ian George. If she smiled while at Linley Park, it was only because she desired to do so. She could laugh or frown, grow angry or sulk, and there was no one about to whose expectations she must bow. For a while, she was able to distance herself from the loneliness that had begun after the discovery of Ian’s affair.
    And the evenings—the unmitigated joy of each night. To be free of that accursed canopy in the London town house and the rich, cloying smell of her perfume on Ian’s skin. The stars were Leah’s canopy instead, the innocent fragrance of daisies sweet upon the night air. Many nights she spent simply sitting in the garden, sometimes with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the breeze, sometimes letting the soft spring rain cascade down her face. For the first time in her life, she finally discovered the art of indulging her own happiness.
    Unfortunately, now that she was back in London and again the subject of her mother’s frivolous demands, Leah realized that once developed, such a habit of selfishness became nearly impossible to break.
    With a very small smile—she was still in mourning, after all—Leah withdrew her arm and straightened. “No, thank you. I’m not in the least hungry.”
    Across the tea service, Beatrice widened her eyes and mouthed a warning. Something about eating the bloody biscuit, Leah thought.
    Ever poised, Adelaide merely raised a brow and reached for another spoonful of sugar. “Is there a reason you decided to wear crepe for your mourning clothes? When your grandfather died, I preferred to wear bombazine the entire time.”
    “I’ve had gowns made of both.”
    Adelaide placed the spoon aside and lifted her teacup and saucer. “I see.” She took a sip. “I must say, though, the wrinkles in that crepe are dreadful.”
    Leah breathed deeply, desperately wishing again for her canopy of stars. “Is there a reason you asked for me to return to London, Mother?”
    “Why, I told you in my letters, dearest. I’ve missed you, and worried for you. Now that you’re a widow, you have no one to guide you or provide for you—”
    “As you know, Viscount Rennell offered an annual allowance and the use of both this town house and Linley Park as long as I like. He’s always had a great fondness for me.”
    “Yes, but I’m sure he won’t abide by that decision indefinitely. He must expect you to marry again, or to see if . . .” Adelaide’s gaze slid to Leah’s stomach.
    Leah swallowed, her hand involuntarily moving to cover the flat expanse above her waist. She glanced at Beatrice, then cleared her throat. “There’s a possibility, but nothing’s certain.” Although her monthly courses had come precisely on time, their duration had been remarkably shortened. And then there was the fact that she’d gained half a stone in two months. She’d come to London at her mother’s request, yes, but also because Lord Rennell had arranged for her to meet with his physician and be