The Earl's Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

marry, and her determination had not wavered. But she had not considered the ramifications of that decision. Not having been around children, she had given them no thought – until today.
    She blinked back a tear and deliberately turned her mind to poetry and the progress of her sketches. One afternoon with a precocious child could neither destroy her contentment nor change her plans for the future. This was merely shock. It would soon recede, and in the meantime she would concentrate on the present.
    But Anne was too perceptive. “What happened?” she demanded as soon as her friend appeared in the parlor.
    Nothing,” denied Elaine. “I spent a most enjoyable afternoon sketching on the cliffs. I believe this may be my best illustration yet.” Her tone was perfect, but she had never mastered the art of controlling her face – at least not around Anne.
    “You met someone.”
    “A young girl only.” She could already see the next question forming. “Lady Helen is a delightful child who just arrived at Treselyan Manor, being the owner’s only daughter. She and her nurse will be staying here for some months.”
    Anne looked interested. She had thrown herself into the life of the community from the moment of moving to Cornwall. “I had not heard of her arrival. I suppose her parents are in London for the Season.”
    “Her father lives there year around. Her mother died in childbirth. Has Lucy started dinner yet?”
    But her attempt to turn the subject failed. If anything, it piqued Anne’s curiosity. “Who is Lady Helen’s father?” she asked quietly.
    “The Earl of Bridgeport,” said Elaine with a sigh.
    “Oh, dear Lord! I had no idea he owned Treselyan!” gasped Anne.
    “Nor did I, but it is unlikely he will appear. You know as well as I that he is firmly fixed in London. If anything, Lady Helen’s presence will make a visit even less likely.”
    “True.”
    But Elaine could not shake the trepidation that had filled her from the moment Helen revealed her parentage. Or the curiosity.
     

Chapter Three
     
    The knob turned and a furious thrust slammed the bedroom door into the wall.
    “I knew it!” shouted Lord Wainright. “Strumpet! You will leave immediately for the Grange. As for you, sir, name your seconds!”
    Bridgeport, in the final stages of the night’s exertions, was a little slow taking in what was happening. He had never pegged Wainright as the jealous sort. After all, Lady Wainright was well-known for her dalliances. He pulled the coverlet over his back as two footmen appeared in the doorway, poor Hawkins imprisoned between them. Bridgeport abhorred messy scenes, and this was the messiest he had ever seen.
    Well, it was too late for circumspection now. And he could hardly deny culpability considering his present position. With unabashed sangfroid , he finished what he had started, rolled off Lady Wainright – who was on the verge of either swooning or hysterics – and sat up.
    “Let Hawkins go. He can hardly spoil your surprise by warning me at this point,” he ordered calmly, his low voice carrying enough menace that the footmen complied without a single glance at their master.
    Wainright frowned at his minions. “Leave us.” It was a measure of Bridgeport’s powerful presence that all three servants glanced at him for permission before turning toward the stairs.
    “Get dressed,” the baron ordered his wife.
    Bridgeport said nothing. Despite his appearance of calm disdain, his mind was racing in useless circles. In fifteen years of enjoying life, he had never faced so embarrassing or potentially explosive a situation. Normally he stayed away from recent brides, but Wainright already had an heir, and Lady Wainright had caught his attention at a moment when pressing need overwhelmed caution.
    “Name your seconds, sirrah,” repeated Wainright.
    The earl complied. Dueling was illegal, but refusing a challenge would make him a laughingstock. Yet it was a nasty business. Why had the