Tempting the Heiress Read Online Free PDF

He hooked his arm through hers, thwarting her retreat. “You have the look of our mother when you set your face like that.” He laughed at her horrified expression. “Come now, puss, permit me to make amends. Meandering through all of this dust has parched my throat. With your permission, I shall escort you and Miss Novell to Mivart’s for refreshments.”
    Her cynical thoughts directed inward, Amara pondered his persistence. Mallory had kept his distance since their brother Doran’s “death.” His disinterest in her life had not concerned her. They had never been close. Years earlier, his callous opinions about Doran—which were devastatingly aligned with their father’s cruelty—had driven a wedge between them. This made his sudden attention all the more suspicious.

    “Miss Claeg?” her cousin queried, puzzled by her hesitation.
    “I see no harm in it,” Amara admitted.
    “A chary declaration indeed.” He guided both ladies down the hall to the doors. “Deservedly so, I confess. I have been a neglectful brother, Miss Novell.”
    “ Neglectful implies loss. How can I lose something I have never had?” Amara wondered, feeling provoked.
    Mallory moaned, acting as if her unsympathetic words had pierced his chest. She was unmoved by the drama.
    “You were always an unyielding puss.”
    They both knew he was referring to Doran. She refused to be baited and remained silent. He sighed as if he were disappointed in her.
    “The past is steeped in pain and recriminations so we shall look forward. Of late, the prattle-boxes have bantered your name about. Rumors have reached me that some Italian beau has tossed the handkerchief.”
    “Cousin, Conte Prola has declared himself?”
    If her brother’s announcement had not been so disconcerting, she might have found her cousin’s disbelief downright insulting.
    “Prola?” her brother snorted in derision. “His name sounds like a freckle cream. Confess, dear sister. Are the rumors true?”
    Amara wordlessly walked through the door an attendant had opened for them. All her careful planning had been for naught. She had been avoiding the conte for days. Brock Bedegrayne’s reappearance in London had only added to her misery. What did she care of lectures on entomology and rusty medieval armor? She had chosen amusements that would prevent either man from waylaying her
and thereby fueling the ton ’s interest. If word had reached even Mallory’s apathetic ears, then she was truly in trouble. She glanced at her brother, seeing nothing but sympathy. She tried to swallow, but something was stuck in her throat.
    “I believe you need a drink more than I, puss.”
    “Ladies, you missed tea,” Lady Keyworth chastised, taking note of Amara’s heightened coloring. “Again. Gentlemen find tardiness unappealing, daughter. It makes a lady look flighty.” The viscountess returned her attention to the ledger the butler held out for her viewing. “Buckle, incompetence has cost me three pieces of creamware in two days. I assume the culprit has been sacked.”
    The butler closed the book with a crisp snap. “The scullery maid was discharged immediately.”
    The older woman sniffed. “Obviously, not soon enough. You are dismissed.” She fixed her unforgiving gaze on Amara and Miss Novell.
    The pair of them had lined up side by side like repentant children. Amara took several steps forward, severing any illusion that she and her cousin were collaborating in mischief.
    “My apologies, madam. We encountered Mallory at one of the museums. He has fixed on the odd notion that I should model for him. Nothing I said dissuaded him.” She refused to mention her brother’s curiosity about the conte. If her mother learned of the gossip, it might provoke her into action.
    “Miss Novell, there appears to be a lapse in my daughter’s recollection. Did we or did we not agree on Miss Pettifoot’s literary circle for this afternoon’s amusements?
It was understood the acclaimed critic