Read Online Bedding The Baron by Alexandra Ivy - Free Book Online Page B

endure the shock and disapproval of gentlemen who thought business a purely male domain. Women were too unstable, too weak, too soft-hearted, too stupid . . .
    She had heard every reason why she should sell her inn and retreat quietly to a small cottage. Which, of course, only made her more determined to succeed.
    “If you truly are a businessman then you must know that a faint heart can never survive,” she challenged in tart tones.
    The expected expression of censure never appeared. Instead, Fredrick continued to regard her with that mild curiosity.
    “And it does not trouble you that she worked at such a place?”
    “No more so than the fact that two of my maids were once prostitutes at that same gaming hell. Or that Quinn was imprisoned for poaching. Or that Spenser was once a smuggler.”
    Without warning Fredrick tipped back his head to chuckle with unexpected amusement.
    “You know, poppet, you are something of a fraud.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Beneath that hard-hearted businesswoman lies the soul of a saint.”
    A warm blush stained her cheeks at the low sincerity in his voice. She was quite prepared to defend herself against disdain, but it seemed she had no ready resistance to flattery.
    “Not at all,” she said, hoping she did not appear as flustered as she felt. “My servants possess a genuine appreciation for their posts. They work far harder than most staff.”
    “I do not believe that was your reason for hiring them, but I do agree that it is preferable to work with those who are eager to prove themselves.”
    She stilled as she realized that this was one gentleman who might actually understand the effort it had taken her and her staff to overcome the narrow, condemning view of others. Although he was clearly a well-educated gentleman, the mere fact that he was a bastard would have shut any number of doors in his face.
    “As you were?”
    “Yes.” His smile twisted. “Had I been born an aristocrat I doubt I should ever have made the effort to make my own fortune. I suppose I should be grateful to my father for not bothering to give me his name.”
    “Oh, that reminds me.” Silently chastising her scattered wits, Portia reached into her pocket to withdraw the small envelope. “This came for you earlier this morning.”
    Setting aside the tray, Fredrick reached for the envelope and slid his finger beneath the seal.
    “It is from my father,” he muttered, a frown tugging at his brows. “Bloody hell.”
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Just an invitation to luncheon.”
    “You do not seem especially pleased.”
    Fredrick crumpled the paper in his hand before tossing it aside. “Considering that he could barely exchange ten words with me when I called upon him yesterday, it is rather odd he would desire me to share a meal with him.”
    “I presume that the two of you are not close?”
    He ran a restless hand over his unshaven jaw. “As far as my father is concerned, I am nothing more than a mistake his conscience will not allow him to simply forget.”
    Against her will, Portia felt her heart softening at his bald confession. Blast the man. Why could he not just be another worthless rake? It was bad enough that her body reacted to him as if she were standing in the center of a lightning storm. But now he was in perilous danger of making her actually like him.
    “I am sorry.” She gave a short shake of her head. “Everyone should have family who loves them.”
    He regarded her with a searching gaze. “You sound as if you know something of the matter.”
    She hesitated only a moment before confessing the truth. Her past was hardly a secret in the neighborhood.
    “My mother died giving birth to me and my father was a hardened gamester who lost his entire fortune at the tables before fleeing to India to escape his creditors.”
    “How old were you when he left?”
    “Eighteen.”
    Fredrick sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowed. “And they call me a bastard.”
    She smiled wryly.