Read Online Heiress in Love by Christina Brooke - Free Book Online

sheep.
    Regret made Constantine hiss through his teeth. Ah, but better to offend George than see him sacrifice his dream on Constantine’s behalf.
    Dusk had deepened into night, until the silence of this profoundly rural setting pounded in his ears. He hadn’t lit candles. Only the flickering firelight provided any illumination or warmth.
    Ignoring Lady Roxdale’s express wish that he quarter himself elsewhere, he’d commandeered this bedchamber in the east tower, far from her own apartments. It wasn’t the master suite—that would have been too brash, even for him—but it was a comfortable, spacious room overlooking a set of formal gardens.
    Constantine rose and crossed to the window, which he’d left open. The rain had ceased, for the moment, but storm clouds blanketed the sky, smothering the stars and moon. The quiet had an expectant quality to it, disturbed only by the occasional snap of a twig or thump of a log burning down in the grate. He stared into the thick darkness, seeking answers.
    He would have to decide. And soon.
    Well, of course it made sense to marry her. Of course it did. She had the money, he the property. Yes, it would all be tidy if they wed. His aunt demanded it; George put forward the sale of Broadmere as the only other solution.
    They were probably right.
    And yet … His pride stuck in his throat whenever he contemplated marrying a woman for her money. Particularly one who so openly despised him.
    He’d never met anyone quite like Lady Roxdale. She’d stated her poor opinion of him in no uncertain terms. Clearly, she also believed herself proof against his wicked wiles.
    The only vulnerability she’d displayed was when Beckenham had told him about this Luke’s guardianship. Was it merely a pious horror that a man of his stamp might corrupt the young boy? Or did she genuinely care for the lad? What would she be prepared to sacrifice on Luke’s behalf?
    Ordinarily, Constantine would spurn the idea, but he was fast coming to the conclusion that his situation was desperate.
    He admired Lady Roxdale’s face and figure. He desired her. In fact, nothing would please him more than to tumble the Ice Maiden from her lofty perch and into his bed.
    Once more, he thought of her ready blushes, her skin so sleek, so translucent, his fingertips tingled with the desire to stroke it. He wanted to rub against her softness like a cat. He wanted to make her blush again. All over.
    But marry her in a bloodless, loveless marriage of convenience? As a last resort, it was preferable only to selling his family home.
    The door behind Constantine opened. He swung around to see his valet bearing a fine bottle of burgundy and a new glass on a salver.
    “Ah, Priddle. Good timing.” More wine to rescue him from such sobering thoughts.
    “My lord.” The valet left the salver on the table next to Constantine. Priddle uncorked the wine and poured.
    It wasn’t until he’d taken his first, appreciative sip of the burgundy that Constantine’s eye alighted on the screw of paper that also lay on the silver tray.
    “What’s this?” He plucked it from the salver and untwisted it, spreading it out.
    “What’s what, my lord?”
    Constantine didn’t look up. “Never mind.”
    Priddle was superbly discreet. If the note was from a lady who had no business sending Constantine notes (as this one was), Priddle would treat the missive as if it had powers of invisibility.
    Constantine spread the scrap of paper, smoothing it with his thumbs. He could barely make out the elegant scrawl, which was heavily marred by ink blots. Obviously, it had been written in haste and sent immediately. The ink hadn’t yet dried. He inspected a smudge on his thumb.
    “A clandestine meeting in the chapel. Hmm…” He cocked an eyebrow at his valet. “What do you say to that, Priddle?”
    “Not what I would call a setting conducive to dalliance, my lord.”
    Constantine fingered his chin. “No. And the chapel at Lazenby Hall is