The Runaway Heiress Read Online Free PDF Page A

glass
of brandy and tossed it off. His anger faded as quickly as it had risen. She
needed his help and probably suffered from enough ill humour at Torrington
Hall. The stark bruise and Torrington's obvious lack of restraint told its own
story.
    'Do not distress
yourself.' He took a deep controlling breath and released it slowly in a sigh.
'Let us attempt to be practical.' And then, 'I remember the dress,' he remarked
inconsequentially.
    'I can understand that you
would,' came a tart rejoinder. 'It is hideous and once belonged to my aunt—many
years ago, as you can probably tell.' Her gaze was direct, daring him to make
any further comment on the unattractive puce creation with its laced bodice and
full skirts. 'And I believe it looks even worse on me than it did on her!'
    'Quite. Never having had
the honour of meeting Viscountess Torrington in that particular creation, I
feel that I am unable to comment on die possibility.' He retraced his steps
across the library to his desk and held out his, hand towards her in a
conciliatory gesture. 'Please sit down, Miss Hanwell. As you must realise, it
is imperative that we broach the matter in hand and discuss your future.' She
ignored his gesture and instead fixed him with a hostile glare; he leaned
across the desk and took her hands to remove the pen from her. Her hands, he
noted, apart from being ink splattered, were small and slender but rough and
callused, her nails chipped and broken. Around her wrists—so delicate—were cuts
and abrasions where she had fallen on the glass. He released them thoughtfully
and flung himself into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
    'What were you writing?'
    'A list of my options.'
    He picked up the sheet of
paper and perused it. It was depressingly blank. 'I see that you have not got
very far.'
    'If that is a criticism, I
am afraid my thoughts were all negative rather than positive possibilities. But
I will not return to Torrington Hall.'
    'We have to consider your
reputation, Miss Hanwell.' He looked down at the pen, a frown still marring his
handsome features. 'You do not seem to understand that the scandal resulting
from last night's events could be disastrous.' He abandoned the pen with an
impatient gesture and leaned back to prop his chin on his clasped hands. 'I
believe I can accept your reluctance to return to your uncle's house,' he
continued, 'but have you no other relatives to turn to?'
    'No.' She raised her chin
in an unaccommodating manner. 'My parents are dead. Viscount Torrington is my
legal guardian.'
    'Then we must take the
only recourse to protect your reputation.' His face was stern and a little
pale. 'It is very simple.'
    'And that is, my lord? I
am afraid the simplicity has escaped me.'
    'You must accept my hand
in marriage, Miss Hanwell.'
    'No!' Her reaction was
immediate, if only more than a whisper.
    He raised his eyebrows in
surprise. Most young ladies of his acquaintance would have gone to any lengths
to engage the interest of the Marquis of Aldeborough. But not, it seemed, Miss
Hanwell.
    'It is not necessary for
you to sacrifice yourself, my lord,' she qualified her previously bald refusal.
Paler than ever, there was only the faintest tremor in her voice. 'I am sure
there must be other alternatives. After all, nothing untoward occurred last
night, my lord.' She blotted out the memory of his drunken kisses. 'You were
overcome by the effects of too much of my uncle's brandy.'
    'Be that as it may, Miss
Hanwell,' he replied with some asperity, 'I am afraid that my reputation is not
such that polite society would give me the benefit of the doubt. And besides,
as you have admitted, you have no other relatives who would give you shelter.'
    She turned her head away.
She would not let him see the tears that threatened to collect beneath her
eyelids. T could be a governess, I suppose,' she managed with hardly a catch in
her voice.
    'Are you qualified to do
that?' he asked gently, uncomfortably conscious of her unenviable