To Wed an Heiress Read Online Free PDF

winsomely, “I hear the Prince Regent is planning to curtain his whole dining room with it at Brighton Pavilion.”
    The earl shuddered. “Is not the place gaudy enough as it is?”
    “Do you think so? We visited it last summer, and I was rather impressed by the Indian style of the building and the Chinese murals in the banqueting room. The Saracen influence on the domes—”
    “My daughter is a little too fond of architecture for her own good,” interrupted Mr. Hastings. Haro sensed a coarse note of savagery in his voice, perhaps a hint for Arabella to abandon the subject and pursue some topic more frivolous.
    Strange, Haro thought. He would have assumed that the old braggart would take delight in his daughter’s architectural knowledge, another one of her accomplishments to showcase for prospective suitors.
    The conversation continued on in a lighter vein until the final course had been removed. “I think Mrs. Rollo and I must excuse ourselves now,” said Arabella, playing the part of a proper hostess, “and let you gentlemen enjoy your port in peace.”
    “Yes, yes, run along,” said her father with a wink, “but don’t run too far, for I may have things to talk over with you later.” The ladies floated out of the room, the younger with a small smile playing over her face, the elder with the same downtrodden expression she had borne all evening. Haro wondered if this Mrs. Rollo had always been so dour or if she had acquired her grim expression from constant association with the pretentious tradesman.
    William Hastings went over to the sideboard to retrieve the decanter, pouring both himself and the earl a generous helping of the after-dinner beverage. He eased himself back into his chair with a wolfish smile. “Well, here we are, my lord, alone at last and able to talk like men. I’ve had my ear to the ground ever since seeing you at the Duke of Doyle’s. You need my help, I think. Come, admit as much, and then we can begin to talk….”
    ***
    Pride is an unappetizing dish to swallow, and later on, Haro could barely believe how much of it he swallowed that night when he confessed the extent of the Emison family debts to the vulgar Mr. Hastings. It helped that the mill owner—having researched the earl’s family most thoroughly—already knew the majority of the story. But it was still bitterly galling for Haro to be forced to air his family’s dirty linen with this inquisitive stranger.
    Fortunately, however, William Hastings did not seem to be at all put out or put off by the tale of the late earl’s egregious spending at cards. “That’s how these aristocrats are,” he said with a familiar wink, “all flash and no fold, and not a one of them with any money sense.” He rubbed his hands over the gold lace of his costume, obviously preening himself on the fact that he did have money sense, and it was that money sense that had led the new earl straight into his pocket.
    “So if I understand you correctly, you need”—and he rattled off an outrageous sum of tens of thousands of pounds—“to save your precious country estate and keep up the style of living to which your family is accustomed.” Hastings sipped his port with an excitement he did not bother to conceal. “I happen to have that sum. I won’t say it would be easy for me to come by it, and I don’t say that it’s ready to hand. But I have it, and could give it to you, should you engage to make it worth my while.”
    Haro put down his glass hesitantly. Now was the time for him to introduce Miss Arabella Hastings into the conversation, but such candor—or crassness—was far more difficult for him than it was for his host. “Obviously, I cannot offer you any collateral for such a sum, or indeed, have any hope of ever repaying you. There is one thing my father did leave me intact, however.” He set his jaw and looked at the mill owner proudly. “The title of Earl of Anglesford.”
    “Yes, that is so!” said William Hastings,