Read Online Invincible by Joan Johnston - Free Book Online Page A

could enjoy partaking of such delicious fruit until he’d settled things one way or the other with K. He was going to have to talk with her again. He was going to have to convince her to work with him. If for no other reason than to prove to himself that the woman wouldn’t—simply couldn’t—live up to his memories of her.
    Maybe he ought to go to America for Mother’s Day. He could stop by The Seasons and find out what the hell his mother wanted.
    More importantly, he’d be on the same continent as K. He could take a flight down to Miami and talk some sense into her. Because he wasn’t going to have any peace until he did.

5
    â€œA nother gift has arrived, Your Grace, along with a note declining your invitation.”
    Bella growled with frustration, then put a hand to her heart, which was beating hard enough from anxiety to hurt. What if none of her children showed up? She couldn’t bear the thought. Did they despise her so much? Or were they truly as busy as they claimed to be?
    Bella forced herself to take a deep, calming breath as she settled onto a rock-hard horsehair Victorian sofa. The sofa had survived fire and plague and pestilence over the centuries, which was why the uncomfortable thing still stood in the parlor at The Seasons.
    She took several more deep breaths but didn’t feel the least bit calmed. Oliver, Riley and Payne had already rejected her invitation, citing business commitments. “Who sent the latest gift?” she asked her assistant. “Lydia or Max?”
    â€œIt’s from Lady Lydia,” Emily said.
    â€œSo Max might still come.”
    â€œWe can always hope, Your Grace.”
    Bella eyed the young woman. “But you don’t believe he’ll show.”
    â€œWe can always hope,” Emily repeated. “You know how busy everyone is. According to the report from Warren & Warren Investigations, Courtland—I mean, the earl—Oliver—is purchasing ranch land in Argentina. Lord Riley is negotiating for oil tankers in Hong Kong. And Lord Payne…” A thoughtful frown wrinkled her forehead before she said, “Oh, yes. Mr. Warren reported that Lord Riley is on a ship somewhere in the Aegean, researching an underwater archeological find.”
    â€œAnd Lydia’s excuse?” Bella asked.
    â€œAccording to the note that came with your gift, she’s in Venice. She mentioned something about hunting down a stolen painting.”
    Bella picked up a needlepointed pillow from the sofa and threw it across the room toward the elaborately carved white marble fireplace. It fell short. She hissed with fury.
    â€œAre you all right, Your Grace?” Emily asked, rushing to her side.
    â€œI’m fine, Emily,” Bella said with irritation. “There’s nothing wrong with my heart. Go back to your knitting.”
    Emily reluctantly crossed the room, picked up a pair of knitting needles and a partially completed blue wool sweater from a silk-brocade-covered wing chair, and sat down.
    â€œYou know what I hate most about what’s happening here?” Bella said.
    Over the clack of her knitting needles Emily asked, “What’s that, Your Grace?”
    â€œThe smug look I’m going to see on my brother-in-law’s face when only one of my children shows up here today.” Bella heard footsteps on the creaky, carpeted wooden Gone-With-the-Wind staircase in the central hallway of the nearly four-century-old home. She glanced over her shoulder and found Foster Benedict, Bull’s younger brother—and her nemesis—standing in the doorway to the parlor. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered.
    â€œGood morning, Bella,” he said with surprising cordiality.
    Bella watched as Foster crossed to a breakfront where a silver coffee service and a selection of pastries had been set out by the butler. Foster had been incensed when she’d told him she intended to have her children