Tempting the Heiress Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mr. Dela Court would be in attendance.”
    Amara despised it when her mother spoke of her as if she were not present in the room. “ We agreed at breakfast that Mr. Dela Court’s honored presence at Miss Pettifoot’s would not spare it from being an utter bore.”
    “Amara Claeg!”
    Her mother’s appalled exclamation always managed to ripple down her spine. She ruthlessly suppressed any outward reaction. This was the way between them. Madam was shocked. Amara was at fault. The tragic scene had played for years.
    “It was regrettable that we did not attend the literary circle,” her cousin said, clearly uncomfortable with Lady Keyworth’s disapproval. “We did attend a fascinating lecture by …” She visibly struggled for the name.
    Gracious, Miss Novell was pitiful at deceit. Observing the woman falter with half-truths was just too painful. “The Reverend Kendall,” Amara supplied.
    “Yes, his name had escaped me. The reverend presented a most interesting lecture on—on …” Her cousin glanced helplessly at her.
    “Entomology. The subjects were rather taken with Miss Novell’s bonnet.”
    The comment would have earned her a terse rebuttal from her cousin if her mother had not silenced them with a look.
    “Your defiance shames not only you, Amara, but your family. Conte Prola was disappointed when you failed to make an appearance at Miss Pettifoot’s. He has expressed concern that you are avoiding him. Naturally, I made the appropriate excuses.”
    “Naturally,” she softly echoed.

    Lady Keyworth abruptly stood. Instinctively, Amara knew the mockery in her tone had tested the boundaries of her mother’s tolerance. She was at fault. Again. Within her imagination, her mother was always a tower of fury, but in truth, she was only three inches taller than Amara. What beauty she possessed was pinched by frustration and anger. With strength that always managed to surprise Amara, Lady Keyworth seized her by the nape. The bite of her mother’s nails was enough to make her eyes water. Lady Keyworth pushed and dragged her daughter to the door.
    “Miss Novell, open the door.” She might have managed it herself if Amara had not begun struggling for her release.
    “I tire of these lectures, daughter.”
    The servants they passed were not shocked by the commotion. Lady Keyworth’s temper was legendary. With selfpreservation foremost in their minds, they cleared the path for Amara’s humiliating journey to her bedchamber.
    “Release me!” Amara demanded, her teeth clenched from the pain. She twisted and turned to no avail. She could hear her cousin’s footfalls behind them. Having Miss Novell as a witness to her punishment, once again, made Amara despise the woman all the more.
    With one hand steadying her ascent, and the other easing the manacle at her nape, she cursed her mother. The last time she had dared to be so vocal, her mother had cut her waist-length hair to her chin. She would have cut her to the scalp if her father and a servant had not interfered. That had happened two years earlier.
    The side of her face connected with wood as her mother fumbled with the door latch. It sprang open. Lady Keyworth shoved her into the room. Amara staggered,
catching herself before she fell into an ignoble heap on the floor. Her neck was tender from the abuse. Reflexively, she curled her hand around her wounded flesh.
    Panting from her exertion, her mother declared, “You shall remain here until I send for you. In my absence, it would be wise to contemplate the humble apologies you will bestow on Conte Prola and me this evening. He intends to claim the first dance. We will not disappoint him.” She closed the door, effectively cutting off any heated vow of denial.
    Hugging herself, Amara went to her window and stared blindly at the scene below. Absently, she slipped her hand into her bodice and withdrew a pendant. Blinking away the stinging grit in her eyes, she traced the plain oval bezel with her fingertip. The