Strathmere's Bride Read Online Free PDF

still, silent form of Sarah as she watched her unclewith mistrust in her eyes prompted Chloe into capitulation. “You have my pride at a disadvantage. I shall make an effort to please you in this manner, if only for the children’s sake.”
    Jareth didn’t move for a moment. Chloe thought perhaps he was shocked she had behaved so humbly. Then he did something very, very odd. His expression began to alter. A stricken look replaced the cold arrogance of just moments ago.
    He squinted at her, blinked and looked horrified, though she could not fathom why. Without another word, he made for the door, stopping halfway because his foot hit Sarah’s bear, which had fallen onto the floor at some point during their altercation. He stooped, retrieved it and rose, standing there for the space of a few seconds, just staring down at it. Then he turned slowly and held it out to Sarah. She regarded him solemnly for so long, Chloe feared she was going to refuse to take it.
    Finally, she reached for the toy, and the duke smiled ever so slightly, stretching out long, elegant fingers to brush the slightest of caresses along her chubby jawline.
    He dropped his hand, whirled to confront Chloe once again and said, “Please forgive my intrusion. It was unforgivable…I didn’t mean to upset the children.”
    He left, clicking the door shut behind him with care.
    Rebeccah was in a mood after that. Chloe did her best to soothe her, knowing she was frightened by her uncle’s visit, but her already challenged patiencewas stretched to its limit. Sarah, on the other hand, seemed strangely content. She kept staring at her bear as if to glean some insight from the flat, dark button eye.

Chapter Four
    “R eally, Strathmere, that is the third time I’ve spoken to you and you have neglected to answer,” the duchess scolded. “And you look positively dreadful. You aren’t coming down with the ague, are you?”
    Jareth turned to his mother, attempting to compose his face in placid lines. “Yes. I am a bit out of sorts.” His voice drifted into a soft, reflective tone. “Not quite myself…”
    “See to it that you are not less than your best this afternoon. I have invited the Rathfords to tea. I do so enjoy Lady Rathford. Such an impeccably comported person. Lord Rathford can be crude, it is true, but no more so than is typical of the country gentleman.” A slight, nearly imperceptible pause. “Of course, Helena is absolutely charming.”
    There was an awkward silence during which Jareth realized he was expected to respond. “She is exemplary,” he said.
    “Yes,” his mother nearly crooned with satisfaction. Settling back in her chair, she fiddled with the fan on her lap.
    Jareth felt a strange emotion curl like a wisp of smoke, tangy and elusive, then gone. He thought it was annoyance, at his mother no less, which was not something he was used to feeling. He had the greatest respect for his mother. She was the force behind the family, taking the helm of what she would often and proudly boast was one of the finest families in England. She had led them through disaster more than once, even when his father was alive.
    She had only been vaguely interested in him growing up, much less exacting than she had been with Charles, which had meant there was room for a degree of fondness in their relationship. With Charles there had been no respite from the demands incumbent upon him as heir. His mother had been ruthless—a strange word to choose, but somehow it fit— and almost viciously vigilant.
    Jareth felt a dawning dread. Now that critical eye was turned his way. His days of freedom were over.
    Had it been like this for Charles? Had he felt this sense of suffocation, of generations of Hunts weighing down on him—the crushing burden of responsibility squeezing out his own essence?
    Fanciful silliness, he thought with disgust, then discovered that his mother was talking to him again and he hadn’t heard a word she had said.
    “I am sorry,