Read Online A Highland Duchess by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Ranney
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House , Pride and Prejudice , Silas Marner: the Weaver of Raveloe , and Wuthering Heights , all books so exciting that the words must surely singe their pages.
She felt curiously lighthearted. For the first time in years she wasn’t expected to be anywhere, to be doing anything in particular, and most importantly, no one demanded that she act in a certain way. For a day she didn’t have to worry about her upcoming marriage. In the safety of this room, she didn’t have to pretend to mourn her husband.
For the first time in years—in her lifetime, perhaps?—she was entirely and completely free, and she was a prisoner.
Lying back on the bed, she grabbed Silas Marner and began to read. Immediately, she lost herself in another time, another place, and another person’s experience.
Once, she found herself agreeing with poor Silas.
It seemed to him that the Power he had vainly trusted in among the streets and at the prayer-meetings, was very far away from this land . . .
How many times had she felt that God was very far away, especially on those nights when Anthony entertained in Chavensworth’s ballroom? Emma pushed that thought from her mind and concentrated on Silas’s world and not her own.
She put her book down when summoned to the door by a knock.
“Your dinner, miss,” the girl said, entering the room nearly bent over from the weight of the tray.
“Is it that time already?”
Although she hadn’t done anything but read all day, Emma found herself remarkably hungry. The tray was laden with a slice of beef, vegetables, pudding, a small serving of fish, potatoes, and an individual pear tart. The meal looked delicious, and the serenity of not having to face her uncle across the table was even more wondrous.
This day of imprisonment had been pure bliss.
She’d been interrupted only once, when a young man had knocked.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but I need to get some clothes from the wardrobe.”
She opened the door wide, and he’d gone to the armoire, selecting several garments. He’d left with an armful of clothing and a smile.
“It’s a little early, miss,” the young girl said now, placing the tray on the table near the bed. “But Cook is having hysterics on account of the dinner tonight, and the master just now returning to the house. My mother always said that what cannot be helped must be put up with.” She shook her head, smiling.
“A dinner?” Emma asked.
“Oh yes, miss, the master is having a grand to do. Twenty people in all, and all the staff to wear their best bib and tucker. It’s a very particular occasion.”
Emma moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, miss? With all the to do downstairs, it might be a bit of a wait if you ring for me.”
“Who are the guests?” Emma asked, tamping down her sudden, insane panic.
“I’m not sure, miss. Mostly gentlemen, I think. Friends of the master.”
She bobbed another curtsy and left. Emma stared at the closed door, then forced her attention to the meal.
Although she was certain the meal was wonderful, and more than a prisoner had a right to expect, she found that her appetite had abruptly vanished.
She might as well have been eating sawdust for what she tasted. When she’d eaten enough to satisfy her hunger, she slid from the bed and walked to the window. While she’d been reading, day had surrendered to night. This view was of a brightly lit square, not unlike her own neighborhood. But unlike her more sedate square, a line of carriages sat waiting for their passengers.
Her brigand evidently had guests.
Ian was not Anthony. This was not one of Anthony’s entertainments. Her stomach, however, still clenched, and her hands trembled at her sides.
Ian would not take advantage of a lone woman. Had he not been concerned for her comfort from the first?
Still, she might be wrong. She would know in a matter of time, wouldn’t she? Someone would come for her. Someone would tell her
She felt curiously lighthearted. For the first time in years she wasn’t expected to be anywhere, to be doing anything in particular, and most importantly, no one demanded that she act in a certain way. For a day she didn’t have to worry about her upcoming marriage. In the safety of this room, she didn’t have to pretend to mourn her husband.
For the first time in years—in her lifetime, perhaps?—she was entirely and completely free, and she was a prisoner.
Lying back on the bed, she grabbed Silas Marner and began to read. Immediately, she lost herself in another time, another place, and another person’s experience.
Once, she found herself agreeing with poor Silas.
It seemed to him that the Power he had vainly trusted in among the streets and at the prayer-meetings, was very far away from this land . . .
How many times had she felt that God was very far away, especially on those nights when Anthony entertained in Chavensworth’s ballroom? Emma pushed that thought from her mind and concentrated on Silas’s world and not her own.
She put her book down when summoned to the door by a knock.
“Your dinner, miss,” the girl said, entering the room nearly bent over from the weight of the tray.
“Is it that time already?”
Although she hadn’t done anything but read all day, Emma found herself remarkably hungry. The tray was laden with a slice of beef, vegetables, pudding, a small serving of fish, potatoes, and an individual pear tart. The meal looked delicious, and the serenity of not having to face her uncle across the table was even more wondrous.
This day of imprisonment had been pure bliss.
She’d been interrupted only once, when a young man had knocked.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but I need to get some clothes from the wardrobe.”
She opened the door wide, and he’d gone to the armoire, selecting several garments. He’d left with an armful of clothing and a smile.
“It’s a little early, miss,” the young girl said now, placing the tray on the table near the bed. “But Cook is having hysterics on account of the dinner tonight, and the master just now returning to the house. My mother always said that what cannot be helped must be put up with.” She shook her head, smiling.
“A dinner?” Emma asked.
“Oh yes, miss, the master is having a grand to do. Twenty people in all, and all the staff to wear their best bib and tucker. It’s a very particular occasion.”
Emma moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, miss? With all the to do downstairs, it might be a bit of a wait if you ring for me.”
“Who are the guests?” Emma asked, tamping down her sudden, insane panic.
“I’m not sure, miss. Mostly gentlemen, I think. Friends of the master.”
She bobbed another curtsy and left. Emma stared at the closed door, then forced her attention to the meal.
Although she was certain the meal was wonderful, and more than a prisoner had a right to expect, she found that her appetite had abruptly vanished.
She might as well have been eating sawdust for what she tasted. When she’d eaten enough to satisfy her hunger, she slid from the bed and walked to the window. While she’d been reading, day had surrendered to night. This view was of a brightly lit square, not unlike her own neighborhood. But unlike her more sedate square, a line of carriages sat waiting for their passengers.
Her brigand evidently had guests.
Ian was not Anthony. This was not one of Anthony’s entertainments. Her stomach, however, still clenched, and her hands trembled at her sides.
Ian would not take advantage of a lone woman. Had he not been concerned for her comfort from the first?
Still, she might be wrong. She would know in a matter of time, wouldn’t she? Someone would come for her. Someone would tell her
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