Read Online BRIGHTON BEAUTY by Marilyn Clay - Free Book Online

with that reprehensible man, Sully," Lady Rathbone continued. "I declare, I was never so shocked in my life! Although I was equally as shocked when this young man appeared at table this morning, declaring that he was my son! Do sit down, dear," she admonished Chelsea, "I shall have a servant bring you a plate."
    Chelsea obeyed without a word, aware that Rutherford was now headed for his place at the head of the table.
    Taking his seat, Lord Rathbone greeted Chelsea in a warm tone, then said, "I had not realized your sight had so suffered, Mother, that you would be hoodwinked by that reprobate, Sully."
    Lady Rathbone sighed. "I was thankful when spectacles let me read again, but I would exchange that gladly for the ability to see a face clearly when it is more than six inches from my own. And I thought you had acquired the roughest way of speaking while you were away."
    Chelsea squirmed. "We were all taken in," she said quietly, suddenly realizing that in spite of the fact that she had hardly eaten in two days, she was still too nervous to eat.
    "That Alayna was taken in is understandable. You two have not seen one another since you were children. But, I feel quite bird-witted for not recognizing the man as an impostor. Still, Alayna," Lady Rathbone gazed expectantly at Chelsea, her tone making her words a question, "you fell in so quickly with the man's plan."
    Chelsea struggled to calm herself. "I wished only to remove that horrid creature from your presence as quickly as possible, Aunt Millie. I was quite frightened, actually. For all of us."
    "And well you should have been," Rathbone put in gravely. "When provoked, Sully can be a dangerous man. To say truth, I would never have hired such scum had I not been hard put for another Englishman on the plantation. As it was, Sully proved untrustworthy from the start. I once learned he had diverted funds intended for cutting to his own pocket. I should have dismissed him then."
    "I wonder that you did not," Lady Rathbone mused.
    Rutherford glanced up from his plate. "I expect I was trying to be a generous and forgiving employer, Mother. I recall he put on quite a show of remorse. But I have since learned my lesson. Once a traitor, always a traitor."
    Chelsea winced.
    After a pause, Lady Rathbone said, "Rutherford tells me the man absconded with your portrait, Alayna. How thoughtful you were to send Ford such a lovely betrothal present. I wish I could have seen it myself. I'm sure it must have been quite beautiful."
    A shaky smile wavered across Chelsea's face. Recalling that Alayna had bragged about the painting being a perfect likeness of herself, she decided it best not to take that tack. "Well, it . . . was not a . . . particularly good likeness, actually."
    "I am sure you are just being modest, my dear." Lady Rathbone directed a gaze at her son. "Alayna has become quite a lovely young lady, has she not, Rutherford?"
    Lord Rathbone's eyes cut to Chelsea, then darted quickly away. "Indeed," he murmured tightly.
    "Well, she will simply have to sit for another picture," Lady Rathbone said. "And, once it is done, I should like to have a copy for myself this time. Perhaps I should have one made of you, as well, Rutherford," she added with a laugh.
    "I expect there is an artist in Chester who could paint Alayna's portrait for us, Mother," Lord Rathbone remarked. Laying aside his fork, he reached for his napkin. "The sitting would keep her occupied while I tend to repairs about the castle. I shouldn't like to leave England again without putting things to rights here, Mother. I am quite shocked at how frightfully shabby the castle appears. The bridge looks as if it could go any minute, and the yard and grounds . . . " He shook his head with dismay. "Even the mews and stables are a fright. By the by, Alayna," he turned a puzzled gaze on Chelsea, "how on earth did you persuade Sully to let you travel in the Marchmont coach? I'd have thought Sully would insist you travel horseback. Much