The Smuggler and the Society Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

every step and transfer his scrutiny to Verity. The prospect of getting out from under his smothering wing was appealing, and if Anthony proved tiresome, she could always cry off later.
    She smiled grimly. Well, she no longer needed to worry about crying off—or about wedding to please her family, binding herself for life to someone who was probably the wrong man. Unless some local fisherman fell in thrall to her celebrated beauty, she’d likely never receive another offer of marriage—certainly not from anyone who could call himself a gentleman.
    â€™Twas amusing, really. She’d chosen Anthony Prescott, a mere Baron Readesdell, over a host of more elevated contenders because she’d thought that he, having known her from childhood, would be more likely to prize her independent spirit and restless, questing mind as much as her beauty and connections. Anthony’s speed in ridding himself of her after the scandal proved that a desire for a link to the powerful Carlow family and her sizeable dowry had been the true attractions.
    If this boon companion from childhood who knew her so well was the wrong sort of man for her, who could be the right one?
    The image of the blue-eyed, black-haired free-trader popped into her head. He certainly was handsome. Even with his hair slicked back and cold seawater dripping off that powerful chest and shoulders, he radiated a sheer masculine energy that had struck her in the pit of her stomach, setting off a fiery tingling in her core that warmed her all the way to her toes.
    A resonant echo of that sensation heated her now, just remembering.
    She had to chuckle. Wouldn’t Marcus sputter with outrage at the mere thought of her being attracted to such a low-born brigand?
    â€™Twas good that Papa would never learn of it; she wouldn’t want to bring on another of the attacks to which he seemed increasingly prone. Mama had often rebuked her, claiming her unladylike behaviour caused him a distress that made such episodes more likely.
    A familiar guilt stirred sourly in her belly. She only hoped her disgrace in London hadn’t precipitated one.
    Marcus hadn’t allowed her to see Papa before leaving London, nor had she wished to. It pained her anew to think that her actions might harm him.
    As someone had harmed her, though no one in her immediate family believed it. According to the diatribe with which Marcus had dismissed her, the entire Carlow family considered her a selfish, thoughtless, caper-witted chit without a care for the shame and humiliation her wild behaviour heaped on the family name.
    On the other hand, given that assessment of her character, a low-born brigand was perfect for her, she thought in disgust. Though the stranger’s handsome face and attractive body probably hid a nature as perfidious and deceiving as every other man’s.
    Except maybe Hal. A wave of longing for the brother who’dbeen almost her twin swept over her. If only Hal had been in London that evening, how differently the outcome might have been! He would not have dismissed or abandoned her.
    But with Boney now on Elba, Hal had been off somewhere in Paris or Vienna, helping secure the peace, exploring new cities, seducing matrons and parlour maids and in general having the sort of adventures which had won him a reputation among his peers as a daring young buck.
    Adventures which, openly criticize though they might, Honoria believed Papa and Marcus secretly admired. Adventures denied a young lady, who would find her reputation ruined by even a whiff of the scandal that settled so gracefully about her brother’s dashing shoulders.
    A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of Mrs Dawes and the kitchen maid, both struggling with canisters of heated water. Wondering what had happened to the footmen who normally hefted such heavy loads, Honoria walked over to assist them. Life, she reflected wistfully and not for first time, as they poured hot water into the