Read Online Gifts of Love by Kay Hooper; Lisa Kleypas - Free Book Online Page A

the correct section dealing with the parents of Parker Wingate, and began reading there.
    Theirs was an interesting time, full of historical events as well as the usual details of family life. Antonia enjoyed reading about all of it. As it had been the night before, she remained awake until nearly dawn, finally giving in to sleep still half-sitting up against the pillows with the heavy book across her knees.
    Physical and emotional exhaustion had taken their toll; she slept deeply.

    Antonia slept through the morning and well into afternoon, waking finally to see her maid sitting peacefully before the fire with a pile of mending in her lap.
    “Good heavens,” Antonia murmured, sitting up. “What time is it? I feel as if I have slept for days.”
    “No, milady, only for hours. It is after three.”
    While Antonia was coping with that slight shock, Plimpton went to the door, opening it just a crack and speaking to someone outside. The conversation was brief, and Plimpton soon returned to the bed. “One of the girls was so obliging as to wait until you should awaken, milady, since I did not wish to leave you. She will bring up your coffee, and you shall have it in bed.”
    “I have been in bed long enough,” Antonia protested.
    “Milady, you were worn down yesterday, and spent the better part of the night, I believe, reading that huge book. Her ladyship has been here, and she agrees with me that you should not get up before dinner.”
    “But—”
    “She insists, milady. As do I.” Briskly, Plimpton helped Antonia to bank her pillows and offered a damp cloth to wash her face and hands. By the time the coffee arrived, Antonia was more wide awake, and looked presentable enough to receive visitors, should any arrive.
    Plimpton, always good company, served her mistress coffee and then returned to her mending, willing to remain silent unless Antonia desired conversation.
    It was rare for Antonia to keep to her bed for any reason, but she was glad enough to obey on that afternoon. With no need to keep up her composure for the benefit of probing eyes, she felt much less strained, and she was glad of the opportunity to continue reading the family history—both out of real interest and a desire to keep her thoughts away from Richard.
    That wish, however, proved futile. Antonia had fallen asleep last night in the middle of the account of Parker Wingate’s early years, and she soon reached the section dealing with his engagement to a young French girl; Linette Dubois was, in fact, his distant cousin, and had come to stay at the castle the previous spring.
    The author of the history had obviously found the young lovers’ story touching; it seemed he had discovered journals written by both of them that provided him with a wealth of details. No other section of the book was so painstakingly recounted as the brief, tragic love story.
    Antonia could not help thinking of Richard as she read. She could not help aching as the lovers’ own words about one another recounted a depth of emotion that was so powerful and intimate it had transcended time itself. They had intended to wed just after the new year, but their passion had been too intense to deny; they had become lovers—as noted in both their journals—the week before Christmas.
    As Antonia and Richard had witnessed, Linette and Parker had met each midnight hour after the remaining family members were asleep in their rooms, spending the bulk of the night in her room because, as Parker had dryly noted in his journal, it was a much simpler matter for a man to don his dressing gown and slip back across the hall in the silent hours before dawn than for a lady to do so.
    Antonia had to smile at that, but then she turned the page and discovered an abrupt, chilling, and inexplicable end to the lovers’ happiness. As she read the few remaining paragraphs, she shared the author’s sense of grief and tragic waste, as well as his obvious bafflement.
    Only the events were known; the