Scandal's Bride Read Online Free PDF

“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.
    â€œCatriona is my father’s—” Jamie broke off and cleared his throat. “Actually, my ward.”
    â€œAh.” 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.
    â€œIf 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.
    â€œThe 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.
    â€œCould 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 Seamus McEnery. With no other avenue available, he studied Seamus’s house, his household, his family, for what insights they could offer of the man.
    A cursory inspection of those he’d met earlier told him little more; they were, one and all, meek, mild, self-effacing, their very timidity a comment on Seamus and how he’d reared his children. Miss O’Rourke had an interesting face, deeply lined and unusually weathered for a gentlewoman’s; Richard didn’t need to study it for long to know she distrusted him deeply. The fact did not perturb him; companions of beautiful ladies generally distrusted him on sight. Which left—Catriona Hennessy.
    She was, without doubt, the most interesting body in the room. In a gown of deep lavender silk, with her lustrous locks—neither gold nor plain red, but true copper—piled high on her head, tendrils escaping to frame her face in flames, the round neckline of her gown scooped low enough to give a fair indication of the bounty beneath, her shoulders and arms sweetly turned and encased in skin like ivory satin, she was a sight designed for lecherous eyes.
    Richard looked his fill. Her face was a delicate oval, with a straight, little nose and a smooth, wide brow. Her brows and lashes were light brown, framing eyes of vibrant green—something he hadn’t been able to see in the moonlight, although he did recall how the gold flecks within the green had flared with indignation. He felt sure they would blaze in anger—and smolder with passion. Her only less-than-perfect feature was her chin; that, Richard considered, was a touch too