Read Online Forever My Love (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, England, Georgia, Courage, destiny, conspiracy, guardian, 18th Century, revolutionary war, american revolution, finishing school, savannah, Cherish, FOREVER MY LOVE, British Nobleman, Fiery Winds, Georgia Plantation, Wanton Ward
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remind you, Miss Bradford, that you will be eating at this same table for every meal, so you will always know your place," the servant instructed primly.
Besides herself, there were only two other girls at the long table. Both of them wore a red, wine, and green tartan sash, so Royal assumed that they were the Scottish sisters who, like her, were not of noble birth.
Royal smiled with uncertainty first at one girl and then at the other, fearful of being rebuffed. She did not feel up to facing another rejection today. Relief washed over her when both girls smiled back at her tentatively.
"We know who you are," one of the girls said, rolling her "R" with a heavy Scottish brogue. "You are the new girl from the Colonies."
"That's right. I am Royal Bradford, and yes, I do come from the Colonies."
"I am Meg MacGregor, and this is my sister, Fiona." The girl giggled. "Like us, it seems you have been banished to anonymity."
Royal glanced around the silent room and found that everyone was looking in her direction. Lifting her chin proudly, she replied: "I'm pleased to share this obscure corner with both of you." She nodded toward the center of the dining room. "I don't believe I should be comfortable there."
Meg MacGregor leaned closer to Royal and whispered, "You aren't likely to find out. It is doubtful that any of us will be invited to eat with the creme de la creme," she said pertly. "Not that I'd want to anyway."
Meg and Fiona were full of questions about the Colonies. By the time their food was served, the three girls were conversing like old friends. Occasionally Royal would glance up and find herself the object of whispered conversations from the other tables—this she tried to ignore, but she was aware of a coldness in the hostile eyes that intermittently met her gaze.
Fiona pointed to one girl who sat at the head of the first table. Royal had noticed her earlier because there was something queenly, yet fragile, about her. "That is the one who holds the power here at Fulham," she whispered.
Royal glanced at the girl who, though beautiful, appeared sullen and withdrawn. "Who is she?"
"That's none other than Lady Alissa Seaton. She is the sister of the duke of Chiswick, and the highest-ranking student at this school. If you are noticed by her, it will make you acceptable to the rest—if not"—Meg giggled—"you'll be left at this table with us."
"Lady Alissa is a monster," Fiona chimed in. "Of course, she's lame, and that could be the reason she's so often disagreeable."
"Lame?" Royal questioned, glancing once more at the girl at the head of the table. "What happened to her?"
"She was thrown by a horse," Meg informed her. "I overheard some of the other girls talking about it. They said the doctor thinks she might one day walk, but only if she tries. Of course, she never tries. I think she likes to be thought of as a cripple."
Fiona pursed her lips. "Why shouldn't she? Everyone falls all over themselves trying to do favors for her, and to please her. But not me—I never will belittle myself to gain her approval."
"I wish I were her friend," Meg said in a fanciful voice. "If for no other reason but to meet her brother, Lord Preston. He is quite handsome of face and manner. I would gladly fawn at Lady Alissa's feet if it would call me to his attention."
"Well, Meg," her sister declared in a disgusted voice, "You can get that notion right out of your head. Besides, even if you were acquainted with Lord Preston, his brother, the duke, would not allow anything to come of it. I am told that he and that wife of his have a sad view of anyone who is not of the nobility. You'll not be introduced to him, and neither will I." She glanced pointedly at Royal. "Nor will anyone at this table, for that matter. We are the social outcasts of Fulham."
"Tis a pity," Meg said in a resigned voice. "Oh, well..." She shrugged. "Lord Preston is most probably as dull as dishwater, anyway. Still, I would like to find out for
Besides herself, there were only two other girls at the long table. Both of them wore a red, wine, and green tartan sash, so Royal assumed that they were the Scottish sisters who, like her, were not of noble birth.
Royal smiled with uncertainty first at one girl and then at the other, fearful of being rebuffed. She did not feel up to facing another rejection today. Relief washed over her when both girls smiled back at her tentatively.
"We know who you are," one of the girls said, rolling her "R" with a heavy Scottish brogue. "You are the new girl from the Colonies."
"That's right. I am Royal Bradford, and yes, I do come from the Colonies."
"I am Meg MacGregor, and this is my sister, Fiona." The girl giggled. "Like us, it seems you have been banished to anonymity."
Royal glanced around the silent room and found that everyone was looking in her direction. Lifting her chin proudly, she replied: "I'm pleased to share this obscure corner with both of you." She nodded toward the center of the dining room. "I don't believe I should be comfortable there."
Meg MacGregor leaned closer to Royal and whispered, "You aren't likely to find out. It is doubtful that any of us will be invited to eat with the creme de la creme," she said pertly. "Not that I'd want to anyway."
Meg and Fiona were full of questions about the Colonies. By the time their food was served, the three girls were conversing like old friends. Occasionally Royal would glance up and find herself the object of whispered conversations from the other tables—this she tried to ignore, but she was aware of a coldness in the hostile eyes that intermittently met her gaze.
Fiona pointed to one girl who sat at the head of the first table. Royal had noticed her earlier because there was something queenly, yet fragile, about her. "That is the one who holds the power here at Fulham," she whispered.
Royal glanced at the girl who, though beautiful, appeared sullen and withdrawn. "Who is she?"
"That's none other than Lady Alissa Seaton. She is the sister of the duke of Chiswick, and the highest-ranking student at this school. If you are noticed by her, it will make you acceptable to the rest—if not"—Meg giggled—"you'll be left at this table with us."
"Lady Alissa is a monster," Fiona chimed in. "Of course, she's lame, and that could be the reason she's so often disagreeable."
"Lame?" Royal questioned, glancing once more at the girl at the head of the table. "What happened to her?"
"She was thrown by a horse," Meg informed her. "I overheard some of the other girls talking about it. They said the doctor thinks she might one day walk, but only if she tries. Of course, she never tries. I think she likes to be thought of as a cripple."
Fiona pursed her lips. "Why shouldn't she? Everyone falls all over themselves trying to do favors for her, and to please her. But not me—I never will belittle myself to gain her approval."
"I wish I were her friend," Meg said in a fanciful voice. "If for no other reason but to meet her brother, Lord Preston. He is quite handsome of face and manner. I would gladly fawn at Lady Alissa's feet if it would call me to his attention."
"Well, Meg," her sister declared in a disgusted voice, "You can get that notion right out of your head. Besides, even if you were acquainted with Lord Preston, his brother, the duke, would not allow anything to come of it. I am told that he and that wife of his have a sad view of anyone who is not of the nobility. You'll not be introduced to him, and neither will I." She glanced pointedly at Royal. "Nor will anyone at this table, for that matter. We are the social outcasts of Fulham."
"Tis a pity," Meg said in a resigned voice. "Oh, well..." She shrugged. "Lord Preston is most probably as dull as dishwater, anyway. Still, I would like to find out for
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