Read Online Love in Disguise by Nina Coombs Pykare - Free Book Online Page A

Papa was a boy he must have lived in grand places.”
    The Earl’s eyebrow lifted again. “How so?”
    Fancy blushed. “Papa was of aristocratic blood. He was a younger son and his family disowned him when he wanted to marry Mama. But he did it anyway.”
    Morgane’s eyes glittered dangerously. “For love, I presume,” he pronounced cynically.
    She would not get angry. Fancy told herself. She simply would not. “Yes, for love. People do marry for that reason. Or so I believe.”
    Morgane shrugged well-clad shoulders. “I find myself quite doubtful on that score. Experience has taught me that love is an illusion, a something that callow moon-lings are wont to believe in until they learn better - usually in quite a painful fashion.”
    With difficulty Fancy kept her tongue between her teeth. She could not let him know that she had been informed about his past. She did not want to cause dissension between him and Castleford. “I’m afraid I must disagree with you, milord,” she replied finally. “I believe that many people marry because of a real partiality for each other.”
    “Perhaps,” answered the Earl, with no great conviction in his tone. “And perhaps they marry for other reasons - like title and money.”
    “That is not something I would do,” rejoined Fancy.
    The Earl raised an eyebrow but made no direct comment on this. “Are you not a curious advocate for the emotion of love?” he asked.
    “Why?” What was the man getting at now? Fancy wondered.
    “You have told me more than once - in no uncertain terms” - the Earl’s hand rose to his scarred cheek - “that you do not need a man. That the theater is your life.”
    “It is,” cried Fancy. “I meant what I said.”
    The Earl laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, but cynical, and, Fancy thought, sad in some inexplicable fashion. “You are not being at all logical. First you tell me that love is very important and then you tell me that it is not for you.”
    Fancy, though she was aware of the sense of what he was saying, did not want to concede it. “I do believe in love,” she said. “But not for myself. And besides” - she knew her anger was getting the better of her, but she could not help it - “what you offered me was not love.”
    Instead of becoming angry, the Earl merely laughed. “Touché. I offered you - if I remember correctly - an establishment and jewels. And the price was not high enough.”
    Angrily Fancy bounced from her chair. “You are mistaken in me, milord. It was not a question of the price. I am not for sale. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”
    The Earl raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Come, come, my dear girl. Are you going to lose your temper when we have been dealing so famously with each other these many minutes?”
    For several seconds Fancy fought with an intense desire to throw something at this irritating, top-lofty creature. But a little reflection soon reminded her that if she threw something at the Earl, it would be her something. And she undoubtedly would be the loser. She would also give him another opportunity to laugh at her.
    With a deep sigh she settled back into her chair. She would not let him goad her into a temper tantrum. It was a very good thing that she had made this resolve, for the Earl’s next statement made her grip the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white.
    “Very good,” said he. “Quite commend-able. You are learning to control that vicious temper of yours. After all, having red hair is really no excuse for behaving abominably.”
    Morgane seemed to be waiting for her explosion. Fancy unclenched her fingers and folded them in her lap before she replied. “My temper is no more vicious than yours,” she said evenly. “And I do not throw things.”
    Morgane laughed. “Perhaps not, but you want to.”
    To this Fancy could make no adequate reply. She would not deny the truth, but neither did she want to admit to it. She decided to remain silent.
    The Earl cast his glance