Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) Read Online Free PDF

this chamber. It smelled faintly of cigar smoke and leather and horse. In short, it smelled like a man.
    A knock sounded on the door, startling her. She sat up in bed and brushed the hair away from her face.
    Was it Sir Harry, come to take her away? Was she in the house of his minions?
    Another knock came, only a little louder.
    She grabbed the candlestick and leapt from the bed, now clad in one of the cook’s dressing gowns. If it was Sir Harry, he wasn’t leaving this house without a nice big hole in his head.
    The knob turned slowly, and Isobel watched, readying herself to spring into action. As the door opened, she braced herself for the worst.
    It was the man who had lain in bed with her. He looked to be in his late twenties, tall and muscular, with a handsome face to match his sparkling blue eyes. His wavy, tawny-brown hair gave him a mischievous air, and when he looked at her, he smiled.
    “I should like to come in for a chat, if you promise not to brain me with that,” he said.
    Isobel nodded warily, lowering her weapon. She kept it at her side as she sat on the edge of the bed.
    He entered smoothly and brought a chair from his desk, moving it and sitting down at an acceptable distance away from her.
    “Feeling better?” he asked. “You’ve been resting for a few hours, now.”
    Isobel felt herself relax a little, and wondered at it. “Yes, thank you.”
    “I am glad to hear it. I’ve managed to arrange some clothes for you, so you can leave at any time.”
    “Thank you,” she replied. “That is very kind.”
    “Not at all,” he said. “Of course, you are invited to stay for supper before you go. But before you leave, I wish to make you a proposition. I wish to make you my wife.”
    The viscount waited for her response. Isobel stared at him silently as a maelstrom of thoughts whirled through her head.
    Finally she asked, “I beg your pardon?”
    “I wish to marry you,” he said.
    “And why should you want to do that, my lord?”
    “That is a long story, only some of which you know,” Lord Thornby replied, rising and walking about the room. “I shall give you the condensed version. You see, last night, my friend Lord Weston and I stumbled upon you unconscious, under a heap of refuse on King Street. We decided that we could not leave you there in good conscience, so we brought you here, to my home.”
    He ran a hand through his wavy hair. “We put you to bed and I retired to the adjoining room. Unfortunately, I awoke in the night and through habit made my way back here, unwittingly falling asleep beside you. For which I now offer my deepest apologies. You may remember the fiasco that followed with my mother fainting and screaming in shock. While Martha attended to you, I had the most amazing news from my solicitor. News which also concerns you, my dear.”
    “Me?” Isobel asked, her pulse quickening. Was Sir Harry involved in this somehow? Had he found her, as he’d promised?
    “Yes,” Lord Thornby answered. “You see, it appears that I am the sole heir to the sixth earl of Ravenwood. In order to claim my inheritance, I must have a bride.”
    Isobel stared at him. “A bride?” What did any of this have to do with her?
    He continued, “Yes, my dear. And I feel that you would be perfect. Considering the circumstances—you and I caught sharing a bed together—I would presume an offer of marriage to be most acceptable to you. In truth, I offer a business arrangement, one that would be very advantageous to both parties. Of course, it would be a marriage of convenience—a union in name only. We would have to make the usual appearances before the ton—a few balls, the theater and whatnot, then we could go our separate ways. I would provide a handsome allowance, a nice little property of some sort, and you would be, after all, a countess. That is, assuming that you are not already married.”
    “No,” she replied, “I am not married.”
    “And you have no other family to look after you,