Read Online Love's Promise by Cheryl Holt - Free Book Online

difficult.”
    “How?”
    “Wed her, get her pregnant, and stash her in the country. Buy yourself a mistress. You can like her all you want. Then when you tire of her, you can buy yourself another and another and another.”
    Rebecca had reached the bottom of the stairs, and she was crossing the floor, proceeding directly toward Michael.
    “Do you ever wish you were someone else,” Michael said, “someone with no responsibilities, who lived a different kind of life?”
    “That was you six months ago,” Phillip reminded him, “before John died.”
    “Oh...so it was.”
    Rebecca was coming closer, closer. The doors to the verandah were open, and from Michael’s pained expression, Phillip thought he would bolt, but before he could escape, Rebecca neared and slipped a proprietary hand onto his arm.
    “Hello, Rebecca,” Michael said. “When did you arrive?”
    At his claiming not to have witnessed her grand entrance, she was very aggravated, but she tamped down her irritation, not wanting Michael to notice that she had a temper—which she did.
    “I expected you to be waiting for me at the foot of the stairs,” she complained.
    “I didn’t see you,” Michael lied. “Sorry.”
    “Rebecca, where is your tiara?” Phillip inquired.
    Her eyes narrowed, her displeasure clear. “Is there some reason you feel it appropriate to comment on my attire?”
    “No,” Phillip replied. “I simply like to annoy you.”
    She bit down on a furious retort, and she gazed up at Michael, struggling to appear cool and composed.
    “Michael”—her voice was a practiced, grating feminine purr—“I don’t care for the company in this part of the ballroom. May we mingle with the other guests?”
    “Certainly.”
    Michael hated their bickering, and he flashed Phillip an exasperated look, then led her away, and as Phillip watched them saunter off, he huffed out a relieved breath. There were many advantages to not being his father’s legitimate son and heir, and avoiding marriage to a girl like Rebecca was the biggest benefit of all.

    “Have you seen the boy?” the Duke asked.
    “Yes, Your Grace,” Michael said.
    The morning sun was very bright, and Michael rubbed his forehead, desperate to alleviate the ache. He’d spent the prior evening at Rebecca’s side, only able to tolerate her prattle by drinking too much, and he had the worst hangover ever. His mood was foul, his disposition raw.
    “And...?”
    “He’s the spitting image of John.”
    “You have no doubt?”
    “None.”
    “Damn,” the Duke cursed. “I was hoping he’d have red hair and brown eyes.”
    “There’s no way you can deny paternity, if that’s what you were thinking.”
    “What if it was?” the wily old bastard snapped.
    “He has every Wainwright feature. There’s not a court in the land that would believe you. You’d be a fool to try.”
    “So what now?” Anne spoke from across the room where she was seated at a writing desk and finishing her correspondence.
    “Now,” the Duke cut in, “we bring him to London. What would you suppose?”
    “Have you talked to the mother?” Anne queried.
    “No, but I chatted with the aunt several times.”
    “What was her opinion?”
    “I couldn’t ask her.”
    “What?” the Duke gasped. “Are you daft?”
    “They’re very close, and Thomas is very attached to her. She’d never agree.”
    “Who the hell cares?” the Duke protested. “She’s irrelevant to the entire issue.”
    “Father!” Anne groused, but as usual, the Duke ignored her.
    “For God’s sake, Michael,” the Duke fumed, “get back to Sussex and retrieve him. Why all the delay?”
    Michael went to the window and peered outside, and he saw Rebecca’s coach arriving. He glanced over at the Duke. “Before I stir this hornet’s nest, I need to hear that you’re still resolved. Are you?”
    “Of course. Have you ever known me to change my mind once I’m set on an idea?”
    It was the Duke’s greatest fault and