The Notorious Widow Read Online Free PDF Page B

The notorious widow entertained rakes, caroused with seamen, bedded students, tenants, servants, parishioners… Yet not one gossip had witnessed unsuitable behavior. Not one gentleman admitted sampling her charms.
    How had she become so venal without anyone noticing? Even in London, everyone knew everything almost immediately. Servants rarely kept secrets.
    If she was innocent, then her other claim must also be true – which meant Jasper Rankin was both clever and cunning. He had kept people so shocked that they hadn’t noticed the lack of evidence. Fury had provoked public condemnations no one could easily abandon. The image of an immoral, unrepentant Catherine Parrish was now firmly ingrained. People might conclude that the tales were exaggerated, but they would fall back on the gossips’ creed – Where there is smoke, there must be fire. The only way to change their minds was for Jasper to confess that he’d lied.
    His carriage drew to a halt. A footman let down the steps.
    Like the park, the manor showed attentive maintenance. The corner blocks of the sandstone building had been replaced sometime in the past century. As the carriage had swept up the drive, he’d glimpsed a half-timbered stable, its outside neatly whitewashed. And the paneled entrance hall was well proportioned.
    “Welcome to Seabrook, my lord,” said the footman, gesturing toward the stairs.
    Blake looked, then froze as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. A woman was descending. Black hair. Blue eyes. Way too familiar.
    He cursed under his breath. Here was that governess again, the one he’d had no luck tracing. Was her charge one of Seabrook’s sisters? Perhaps rumor was crediting Catherine with the governess’s exploits.
    “You!” she snapped. Her hair was looser today, curling provocatively around her pale face. “How dare you follow me home!”
    “I warned you I would discover your employer,” he replied, though in truth, no one had recognized his description.
    “Threatened is closer to the truth, sir. Why don’t you hold up a carriage or burn down a stable or two? It would be a less onerous way to amuse yourself.”
    “Rag-mannered baggage. I can’t believe you pulled the wool over Seabrook’s eyes.”
    “Shall I summon Lord Seabrook, madam?” asked the footman uncertainly.
    “That won’t be necessary, Rob.” She inhaled deeply, then gestured toward a drawing room.
    Blake followed, silent as he hurriedly rearranged his impressions. Madam? The footman’s manner proclaimed that this woman was in charge.
    “Who are you?” he managed once she shut the door.
    “At last. An intelligent question.” The drawing room’s faded carpet made her coloring seem even more vibrant. “Mrs. Parrish, Lord Seabrook’s sister. I will accept your apologies now, though only a empty-headed nodcock would have behaved so disgracefully. Parading your ignorance in public caused my daughter considerable distress.”
    He winced. “Forgive me, but—”
    “Nothing here needs your attention. You will understand that I cannot offer refreshments. Perhaps in the future you will think before drawing unwarranted conclusions or intruding into business that does not concern you.” She turned toward the door, clearly ready to escort him out.
    “Not so fast, Mrs. Parrish,” he said, crossing arms and ankles as he leaned against the mantel. Their eyes clashed across the width of the room. “I am not the only one prone to unwarranted assumptions. Perhaps you should summon your brother after all. I am here by his invitation.”
    “Damn! You must be—” She blanched.
    “Blake Townsend, Earl of Rockhurst.” He proffered a card.
    Clearly dazed, she snatched it from his hand, then retreated to the window. “Dear Lord.” She stared at the card as if it might bite. “Why did William drag you all the way from Oxfordshire? He has never mentioned you before.”
    “He didn’t.” Unsure what shocked her now, he decided to leave no room for further