To Win a Lady's Heart (The Landon Sisters) Read Online Free PDF

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    Lady Bennington smiled as if nothing were amiss.
    When Lady Jane finished her refreshments, she rose to take a turn about the room. “Oh! Hellebores. Christmas roses. I thought so.” Standing at the mantel where the decoration had been set, she sighed and cradled the delicate blossom. “They’re so lovely, my lord. I must take the opportunity to make a sketch of the arrangement while I’m here. I do so fondly recall them from our Christmases while Father was alive. He always made sure we had them.”
    At her sister’s exclamation, a brief flash of pain crossed Lady Grace’s features. And was it his imagination, or had she gone a little pale?
    Lady Bennington leaned forward ever so slightly. “My Jane loves nothing so much as occupying herself with her drawings, indeed.” Looking at the young woman, she beamed. “But she does have such talent.”
    Eager to shift the subject, he gave a hasty reply. “Of that I have no doubt, my lady.”
    Society had never been easy for him, polite or otherwise. This, however, was by far one of the most awkward afternoons of his life.
    How he yearned to be near Grace, wanting to know what she was thinking, wanting to see to her every comfort. All the while he was as unsure as ever of what to do with himself in her presence. Dreaming about tumbling her with the same urgency that made him want to keep distance between them was quite the dichotomy.
    He was going to have to find a way to overcome himself. He was going to have to find a way to get her alone—and soon.
    …
    Grace awoke the following morning about an hour before the sun, by her estimation, and stretched long over the soft feather ticking laid over the mattress. The bed ropes must have been new, for they hadn’t given much during the night.
    The hour was early. The fires had not been lit, and, kicking away the heavy counterpane, nothing but a shift remained between her overheated skin and the blessedly wintery-cool air.
    If only she could free herself of the earl as easily as freeing herself from the bed coverings.
    An uncharitable noise rumbled from Grace’s belly.
    She sat upright to untie the rags from her hair, feeling her way over the knots in the dark.
    Calling for a servant at this hour didn’t seem right. It wasn’t their fault she was hungry at an odd hour. She could well have had more last night if she’d pleased. So, she would manage for herself.
    Wearing a dressing gown and thick woolen shawl about her shoulders, she stole through the dark passages of the still and silent house.
    The scent found her before the noise did. Instead of discovering the kitchens empty, the cavernous room bustled. An unusually tall woman, lean of face and narrow of shoulder, issued staccato orders to three young girls. The kitchen maids, presumably. They were checking under cloths covering bowls to see how the bread dough was fairing, dressing three kinds of meats with an assortment of chopped herbs, and double-checking the small army of preserve jars laid out on the main table against a list.
    One of the maids, a flaxen-haired girl with round eyes and an expressive countenance, gaped at Grace and elbowed her companion to look up from the herbs.
    Grace withstood the scrutiny, insides scalding. Oh, yes, what a fine idea, coming down to fend for herself. Fine, indeed. One of her better notions, no doubt, almost as good as descending to the kitchens that day in Lord Maxfeld’s house. It was always so comfortable interrupting the happenings of the parallel world that existed adjacent to her own.
    “Agnes Mayberry, stop your daydreaming, girl, we’ve got—” In the middle of scolding, the older woman—the cook, presumably—caught sight of Grace. “If you’re hungry, ma’am, I’ll have a tray sent up straight away.”
    “She’s no ma’am, Mrs. Larkin.” The girl didn’t take her eyes off Grace. “That’s her.”
    Mrs. Larkin looked Grace up and down. “Begging your pardon, but I seem to be at the