Scandal's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

drawing room, immediately preceding the butler. As that
venerable individual intoned the words "Dinner is served," she swept
the gathering with a calm and distant smile—until she came to him, standing
beside Mary's chair.
    Her smile died—stunned astonishment took its place.
    Slowly, with deliberate intent, Richard smiled back.
    For one quivering instant, her stunned silence held sway, then Jamie
stepped forward. "Ah… Catriona, this is Mr. Cynster. He's been summoned
for the reading of the will."
    Deserting his face, she fixed her gaze on Jamie's. "He has?"
Her tone conveyed much more than a simple question.
    Jamie shuffled and shot an apologetic glance at Richard. "Da''s
first wife made him a bequest. Da' held it until now."
    Frowning, she opened her lips to quiz Jamie. Having silently prowled
closer, Richard took her hand—she jumped and tried to snatch it back, but he
didn't let go.
    "Good evening, Miss…" Richard slanted a questioning glance at
Jamie.
    Instead, his witch answered, in tones colder than ice. "Miss
Hennessy."
    Again, she surreptitiously tugged, trying to free her hand; Richard
unhurriedly brought his gaze to her face, waited until she looked up, trapped
her eyes with his, then smoothly raised her hand. "A pleasure," he
purred. Slowly, deliberately, he brushed her knuckles with his lips—and felt
the shiver of awareness that raced through her—the shiver she couldn't hide.
His smile deepened. "Miss Hennessy."
    The look she sent him should have laid him out dead on the Aubusson rug;
Richard merely lifted a brow, deliberately arrogant, deliberately provocative.
And held onto her hand, and her gaze. "What Jamie is understandably
hesitant over explaining, Miss Hennessy, is that Mr. McEnery's first wife was
my mother."
    Still frowning, she glanced at Jamie, who colored. "Your…?"
Understanding dawned; she looked back at him. "Oh." The veriest hint
of pink tinged her ivory cheeks. "I see."
    There was, to Richard's surprise, no hint of condemnation, or
consternation, in her voice—she didn't even yank her hand away, as he'd fully
expected; her slim fingers lay quiescent in his grasp. Her eyes searched his,
then she inclined her head, coldly gracious, the action clearly signifying her
understanding, and a regal agreement to his right to be present. There was no
suggestion in any element of her bearing that she was perturbed at learning he
was a bastard.
    In all his years, Richard had never met with such calm acceptance.
    "Catriona is my father's—" Jamie broke off and cleared his
throat. "Actually,
my
ward."
    "Ah." Richard smiled urbanely at Catriona. "That explains
her presence, then."
    He fielded another of her lethal glances, but before he could respond,
Mary bustled up and claimed Jamie's arm.
    "If you could lead Catriona in, Mr. Cynster?"
    With Jamie in tow, Mary led the way; entirely content, Richard placed
the intriguing Miss Hennessey's hand on his sleeve and elegantly steered her in
their wake.
    She glided beside him, a galleon fully armed, queenly detachment hanging
about her like a cloak. As they left the drawing room, Richard noted that the
older woman had also appeared; she had been standing near the door.
    "The lady who accompanies you?"
    There was a palpable hesitation, then she elected to answer. "Miss
O'Rourke is my companion."
    The dining room lay across the cavernous hall; Richard led his fair
charge to the chair beside Jamie, at the table's head, then, at Jamie's
intimation, took the seat opposite, on Jamie's right. The rest of the family
and Miss O'Rourke took their places. The room was large, the table long; the
distance between the diners was enough to discourage those conversations not
already dampened by the atmosphere. Despite the blaze roaring in the hearth, it
was chilly; a sense of long-standing austerity hung over the room.
    "Could you pass the condiments?"
    With that the limit of conversation, as the courses came and went,
Richard used the time to indulge his curiosity about