Stephanie James Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dorset. The kind of reputation that would be assigned to him if he failed was the last thing he needed. He could imagine the sound of his amended title now — “Lord Philip Ravenshaw, second son of the Duke of Willingham, naturally able to repel ladies, and a professional cock-up in business”. He shuddered at the thought.
    “Mr. Winter,” said Philip when he entered the drawing room fifteen minutes later. Mr. Winter rose immediately from his chair. “How good of you to come, sir. I meant to call on you as soon as I arrived, but as you can see from the state of this old place,” said Philip, “my visit was delayed.”
    Mr. Winter said nothing. He looked past Philip and through the doorway as though waiting for someone else to appear.
    Philip’s lips stretched into a nervous smile. “Is something the matter, sir?”
    “Oh, no, my lord, everything is quite well,” Mr. Winter rushed to explain. “It’s just that I …” Mr. Winter chuckled. “I do not think we should begin business with a lie.”
    Philip nodded. “Well spoken.”
    “I confess, Lord Philip … my expectations of you were of someone much … older.”
    “Older?” Philip queried.
    “Yes, my lord,” said Mr. Winter. “How old are you?”
    “First, please do not call me ‘my lord.’ If we are to be partners in business, then I believe titles should not separate us. And to answer your question, I am four-and-twenty, but my age need not be of concern. I assure you, sir, my intentions with this venture are not fly-by-night. I plan to invest a great deal of myself into this project in addition to money.”
    Mr. Winter smiled slowly. “I knew I would like you.”
    Philip nodded. “You seem to be amiable as well. I think we will work together quite nicely.”
    “Indeed,” Mr. Winter agreed.
    “Now, then,” said Philip and walked over to the sofa to sit. “What has brought you here this morning?”
    Mr. Winter sat on the sofa opposite Philip. “I’ve come to issue an invitation to dinner this evening at my home, Whistler Manor.”
    “Excellent,” said Philip. “What time shall I plan to arrive?”
    “I thought we would dine around six, but I was hoping to have a chance to show you the grounds, as well as the current horses in our possession. I’d say arriving around four o’clock should give me time enough to accomplish all I have planned.”
    Philip nodded once. “I shall be there.”
    • • •
    She could not figure out which gown to wear. Lord Philip and her father due to arrive at the Manor any moment for dinner, and Olivia was still standing in her bedchamber, clad only in her chemise and stockings. But she simply could not find anything to wear — such a stupid dilemma, really. She already detested the man on principle, yet she was worried about how she would look to him.
    She told herself she cared about her appearance only for the sake of her father. She refused to entertain the silly notion that Lord Philip’s judgment mattered to her personally, because it didn’t. It just didn’t .
    “Oh, this is nonsense,” she muttered and grabbed her light-blue gown. The dress had been buried in the back of her armoire, though she couldn’t remember for the life of her why. It was an older dress, true, but it was still quite fashionable. At least she thought it would still be considered fashionable. She hadn’t flipped through the pages of The Lady’s Magazine since she’d left London, so she really had no way of knowing.
    Feeling that time was becoming ever more pressing, Olivia chose not to worry about how fashionable the dress was and quickly pulled the garment over her head.
    The sleeves were short and puffed slightly at the shoulders. The bodice, which had been altered to accommodate Olivia’s rather small bosom, was embroidered with roses in pink silk ribbon. She turned and examined herself in the mirror. As usual, she wished she had more up top.
    Nothing could change how she was shaped — or rather, wasn’t shaped