Read Online Miss Grantham's One True Sin (The Regency Matchmaker Series Book 2) by Melynda Beth Andrews - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melynda Beth Andrews
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come to London or what she'd been doing since she came. The only details he needed were those to make his seduction easier: what were her favorite foods, colors, amusements, flowers, and gemstones. None of the rest of it mattered.
He wondered at whatever impulse had made him ask such personal questions in the first place. He supposed it was the old warrior's urge to "know thine enemy." Not that he really needed to know anything more. He was certain he knew exactly what sort of woman Miss Grantham was, exactly where her priorities lay.
If seeking a love match had been her first priority, she would certainly have found one by then. Though she was no beauty, she was not entirely without positive qualities. She possessed sound, even teeth and a pleasing figure. She moved gracefully, if a bit stiffly. Her face and hands were expressive and nimble. With her quick mind, she might have found any number of shopkeepers or solicitors to satisfy her heart in spite of her lack of looks. But Marianna Grantham's heart was clearly not her first priority. She'd come to London to marry a title, and True had known in his heart the first time he’d set eyes on her that, given a choice between love and position, she would abandon her heart, as any young woman of the ton would do. She was no different from any of them.
She was already one of them.
Chapter Five
S HE
was different.
True tried not to notice just how different as the next three days passed in a blur. While his body was busy bestowing flowers and devastating smiles upon Miss Grantham, he tried to keep his mind busy elsewhere. There should have been enough to keep himself distracted. He should have been able to dwell upon his lost cargo, his impounded ships, or the welfare of his sailors and dock-hands and their families. But she kept stealing his attention.
He'd expected her to begin behaving like every other hopeful uncut, unpolished diamond. He'd been prepared for her to demand to be introduced to his more lofty-titled acquaintances—or to the upper gentry living within a few miles of Trowbridge. He'd been prepared for her to start ordering the servants about as though they existed solely to satisfy her personal whims. And he'd been prepared for her to question him concerning his infamous behavior within the ton . But she hadn't done any of those things. It was unsettling.
In the quest to know his enemy, it seemed True was failing miserably.
As he waited in the great front hall for everyone to assemble for a picnic on their fourth afternoon together, True took comfort in the predictable way she'd behaved toward her new feminine fripperies. It was one of the few areas where she hadn't managed to surprise him.
He'd expected her to order thrice as many gowns as needed, and she had. She'd ordered twenty. True knew because he'd told the seamstress to send him the bill.
He'd expected Mary to be impatient to get her hands on the new gowns, and she had. She'd paid extra to have the first of them delivered in only three days' time. Not only that, but she'd paid even more on top of that to have the first several of the gowns delivered all at once. Three boxes had been delivered early that morning and taken upstairs. True sneered. Like all the other ladies of the ton , Marianna Grantham cultivated her own capricious, impatient nature. It wasn't enough to have one new gown all on the same morning. She had to have three. Otherwise, how could she keep everyone waiting as she decided which to wear first?
He took out his watch.
"Stop scowling," Ophelia Robertson told him. She was staring out the window in the direction of her husband, who was speaking with the coachman about the condition of the barouche that had been prepared for the seven of them—True, the Robertsons, Miss Grantham, and the ABC's.
True's nieces were still upstairs with Miss Grantham. Ever since she'd refused to betray them for the salamander, the ABC's had been her constant shadow. He supposed it was only
He wondered at whatever impulse had made him ask such personal questions in the first place. He supposed it was the old warrior's urge to "know thine enemy." Not that he really needed to know anything more. He was certain he knew exactly what sort of woman Miss Grantham was, exactly where her priorities lay.
If seeking a love match had been her first priority, she would certainly have found one by then. Though she was no beauty, she was not entirely without positive qualities. She possessed sound, even teeth and a pleasing figure. She moved gracefully, if a bit stiffly. Her face and hands were expressive and nimble. With her quick mind, she might have found any number of shopkeepers or solicitors to satisfy her heart in spite of her lack of looks. But Marianna Grantham's heart was clearly not her first priority. She'd come to London to marry a title, and True had known in his heart the first time he’d set eyes on her that, given a choice between love and position, she would abandon her heart, as any young woman of the ton would do. She was no different from any of them.
She was already one of them.
Chapter Five
S HE
was different.
True tried not to notice just how different as the next three days passed in a blur. While his body was busy bestowing flowers and devastating smiles upon Miss Grantham, he tried to keep his mind busy elsewhere. There should have been enough to keep himself distracted. He should have been able to dwell upon his lost cargo, his impounded ships, or the welfare of his sailors and dock-hands and their families. But she kept stealing his attention.
He'd expected her to begin behaving like every other hopeful uncut, unpolished diamond. He'd been prepared for her to demand to be introduced to his more lofty-titled acquaintances—or to the upper gentry living within a few miles of Trowbridge. He'd been prepared for her to start ordering the servants about as though they existed solely to satisfy her personal whims. And he'd been prepared for her to question him concerning his infamous behavior within the ton . But she hadn't done any of those things. It was unsettling.
In the quest to know his enemy, it seemed True was failing miserably.
As he waited in the great front hall for everyone to assemble for a picnic on their fourth afternoon together, True took comfort in the predictable way she'd behaved toward her new feminine fripperies. It was one of the few areas where she hadn't managed to surprise him.
He'd expected her to order thrice as many gowns as needed, and she had. She'd ordered twenty. True knew because he'd told the seamstress to send him the bill.
He'd expected Mary to be impatient to get her hands on the new gowns, and she had. She'd paid extra to have the first of them delivered in only three days' time. Not only that, but she'd paid even more on top of that to have the first several of the gowns delivered all at once. Three boxes had been delivered early that morning and taken upstairs. True sneered. Like all the other ladies of the ton , Marianna Grantham cultivated her own capricious, impatient nature. It wasn't enough to have one new gown all on the same morning. She had to have three. Otherwise, how could she keep everyone waiting as she decided which to wear first?
He took out his watch.
"Stop scowling," Ophelia Robertson told him. She was staring out the window in the direction of her husband, who was speaking with the coachman about the condition of the barouche that had been prepared for the seven of them—True, the Robertsons, Miss Grantham, and the ABC's.
True's nieces were still upstairs with Miss Grantham. Ever since she'd refused to betray them for the salamander, the ABC's had been her constant shadow. He supposed it was only
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