The Prodigal Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

blackguard married you, even without a dowry,” he scoffed, disbelief evident. “Or was it some other fellow who decided exclusive favors were preferable to sharing his slut with others?”
    Anger thrust fear and nervousness aside. She had often wondered if she could have reasoned with him had she not lost her temper that day. Now she knew. And nothing had changed. It had been lunacy to come here. She nearly rose to leave, but Jack’s voice sounded in her ears. Never retire from the battlefield until you have accomplished your goal or exhausted all options. Only then should you retreat with dignity.
    “I’ll not argue with you except to state that my behavior has never been less than ladylike. And as I have no intention of staying here, you needn’t fear for your guests.”
    He stared silently as he stalked over to slam a letter onto his desk. The action was so familiar, Amanda nearly cringed, but this time whatever bad news lay in that missive could not concern her – except that she had apparently arrived at an inopportune time. Something else had already put him in a fury. Cold eyes raked her from head to toe, taking in the changes in her appearance.
    “Then why are you here?”
    “I know what store you set by your name,” she stated baldly. “I have come to a crossroads and felt you deserved a voice in which path I choose, since it may reflect on you. My husband died at Waterloo, leaving me little but his back pay. I have been supporting myself in London by teaching, sharing a house with another widow who was likewise occupied. But Jessie will remarry at the end of the month. Without her contributions, I cannot keep my home. There is no other lady with whom I could live in amity, and so I have two choices. I can advertise my breeding to justify increasing my fees and to recruit a better class of students than the daughters of merchants. Or I can ask you for a small allowance. A hundred pounds a year would maintain my present status.”
    Fury was growing in his eyes. Either the double shock of her appearance and that letter had loosened his control, or the years had undermined his rigid composure. His face was more expressive than she had ever seen it.
    “You are working?” he snapped, imparting so much scorn into the words that he might as well have accused her of whoring on the streets of Middleford.
    “There is nothing wrong with work,” she countered. “I teach music and French. There are less genteel ways to support oneself.”
    “The daughter of a marquess does not work for a living,” he stated coldly.
    “I repudiated that designation nine years ago, as did you. I have never regretted it, nor do I now. It makes no difference to me which course I take, but I felt you deserved the option of keeping my origins quiet if they matter to you.”
    His face was glaring with rage, its features twisted into a caricature of one of the gargoyles she had seen on Notre Dame. “Your place is running a proper home for a proper husband and providing his heirs – if you can. I will not condone your continued intransigence.”
    “My lord, this discussion is pointless,” she interrupted him, steel underlying her voice. “I have no intention of marrying again. I could never find another man like Jack. Nor will I give up my teaching. All other considerations aside, I enjoy it. The only question is the one I already stated. Will you provide me a small allowance, or shall I trade on my aristocratic connections to attract more business?”
    “You have already cost me a small fortune,” he snapped. “I had to pay off Fontbury to keep your stupidity quiet.”
    “Don’t you dare blame that on me,” she snarled. “You signed a contract without consulting me. It was your affair and your responsibility. I will allow no one to force me into an untenable life. Nor do I care a fig if people know I eloped, so any face-saving you indulged in was strictly for your own benefit. Now enough of the past. Have you a preference