Read Online No Decent Gentleman by Patricia; Grasso - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia; Grasso
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behind the baron. She disliked being so harsh with her oldest friend, but with any luck, he wouldn't return until after she'd left for London.
Turning away from the door, Sabrina crossed the foyer to the main staircase. Slowly and wearily she climbed the stairs, but stopped short in surprise when she neared the second-floor landing. The marquess sat in the shadows on the top stair.
"You've been eavesdropping again," she accused him.
"I couldn't help but overhear." Adam grinned un-repentantly and then added, "The baron appears to be in ill humor. Do you think he's having digestive problems?"
"Stop spying on me," Sabrina ordered, her voice raised. She brushed past him, but instead of returning to the drawing room, she raced up another flight of stairs to the third floor.
Sabrina burst into her bedchamber and surrendered to the overpowering urge to slam the door. Good Lord, she felt like baking all night, but didn't think there was enough flour in the cupboard to calm her rioting nerves. A week ago her life had been proceeding steadily and peacefully; now she felt like she'd been trapped on the road toâto where?
Sabrina dropped into the chair in front of the hearth and breathed deeply trying to calm herself as she had done the day of her father's death. She was as unsuccessful now as she had been then.
How dare the marquess meddle in her relationship with Edgar! Yes, he had offered to aid her in clearing her father's good name, but that did not give him the right toâ
A knock on the door drew her attention.
"Who is it?" she snapped, certain the marquess was standing in the corridor.
"His Grace requires your immediate presence in the study," Forbes told her.
"Thank you, Forbes. I'll be right along."
A few minutes later Sabrina paused outside the closed study door and wondered what Uncle Charles wanted. Had he forgotten some important detail concerning her father's will? Or did he intend to scold her for yelling at his nephew?
Without bothering to knock, Sabrina opened the door and stepped inside. The first person she saw was the marquess sitting in one of the two chairs in front of her father's desk. The duke was sitting behind the desk. Both men stood when they saw her.
"You wanted to see me, Uncle Charles?" Sabrina asked, ignoring the marquess.
"Yes, child," the duke said. "Please sit down."
Sabrina marched across the chamber to the desk as the two men sat down again. "I'll stand," she said, casting the marquess a sidelong glance.
"I really think you ought to sit," the duke said.
"Just tell her," Adam said.
A bolt of apprehension shot through her. Sabrina looked at him and then at the duke. "Tell me what?" she asked.
The duke glanced at the marquess, who said, "Give her the short version."
"Sabrina, dear child, continuing your intimate friendship with the baron is ill-advised," the duke said, shifting his gaze to her. "You can never become betrothed to Baron Briggs or any other man because you are already betrothed to my nephew."
Sabrina stared back at him in shock.
"Are you ill?" Adam asked, starting to rise.
"Keep your distance," Sabrina cried. She fixed her gaze on the duke and said, "I don't believe you. My father never told me any such thing."
"Henry died so suddenly," the duke said. "I'm certain he meant to tell you when he deemed the time was right. Here is the contract."
Sabrina stared at the marriage contract. It had been negotiated fifteen years earlier when she'd been a child of three.
"Is that your father's signature at the bottom?" the duke asked.
"It appears to be his, but it could be a good forgery," she replied.
"Trust me, Princess," Adam said. "That is no forgery."
"Trust you?" Sabrina glared at him. "I hardly know you. How can I be sure you aren't a swindler in search of a wealthy wife?"
"I am ten thousand times wealthier than you," he said quietly.
"Adam is one of the wealthiest men in England," the duke interjected.
"Why do you wish to marry me?" Sabrina asked.
"I
Turning away from the door, Sabrina crossed the foyer to the main staircase. Slowly and wearily she climbed the stairs, but stopped short in surprise when she neared the second-floor landing. The marquess sat in the shadows on the top stair.
"You've been eavesdropping again," she accused him.
"I couldn't help but overhear." Adam grinned un-repentantly and then added, "The baron appears to be in ill humor. Do you think he's having digestive problems?"
"Stop spying on me," Sabrina ordered, her voice raised. She brushed past him, but instead of returning to the drawing room, she raced up another flight of stairs to the third floor.
Sabrina burst into her bedchamber and surrendered to the overpowering urge to slam the door. Good Lord, she felt like baking all night, but didn't think there was enough flour in the cupboard to calm her rioting nerves. A week ago her life had been proceeding steadily and peacefully; now she felt like she'd been trapped on the road toâto where?
Sabrina dropped into the chair in front of the hearth and breathed deeply trying to calm herself as she had done the day of her father's death. She was as unsuccessful now as she had been then.
How dare the marquess meddle in her relationship with Edgar! Yes, he had offered to aid her in clearing her father's good name, but that did not give him the right toâ
A knock on the door drew her attention.
"Who is it?" she snapped, certain the marquess was standing in the corridor.
"His Grace requires your immediate presence in the study," Forbes told her.
"Thank you, Forbes. I'll be right along."
A few minutes later Sabrina paused outside the closed study door and wondered what Uncle Charles wanted. Had he forgotten some important detail concerning her father's will? Or did he intend to scold her for yelling at his nephew?
Without bothering to knock, Sabrina opened the door and stepped inside. The first person she saw was the marquess sitting in one of the two chairs in front of her father's desk. The duke was sitting behind the desk. Both men stood when they saw her.
"You wanted to see me, Uncle Charles?" Sabrina asked, ignoring the marquess.
"Yes, child," the duke said. "Please sit down."
Sabrina marched across the chamber to the desk as the two men sat down again. "I'll stand," she said, casting the marquess a sidelong glance.
"I really think you ought to sit," the duke said.
"Just tell her," Adam said.
A bolt of apprehension shot through her. Sabrina looked at him and then at the duke. "Tell me what?" she asked.
The duke glanced at the marquess, who said, "Give her the short version."
"Sabrina, dear child, continuing your intimate friendship with the baron is ill-advised," the duke said, shifting his gaze to her. "You can never become betrothed to Baron Briggs or any other man because you are already betrothed to my nephew."
Sabrina stared back at him in shock.
"Are you ill?" Adam asked, starting to rise.
"Keep your distance," Sabrina cried. She fixed her gaze on the duke and said, "I don't believe you. My father never told me any such thing."
"Henry died so suddenly," the duke said. "I'm certain he meant to tell you when he deemed the time was right. Here is the contract."
Sabrina stared at the marriage contract. It had been negotiated fifteen years earlier when she'd been a child of three.
"Is that your father's signature at the bottom?" the duke asked.
"It appears to be his, but it could be a good forgery," she replied.
"Trust me, Princess," Adam said. "That is no forgery."
"Trust you?" Sabrina glared at him. "I hardly know you. How can I be sure you aren't a swindler in search of a wealthy wife?"
"I am ten thousand times wealthier than you," he said quietly.
"Adam is one of the wealthiest men in England," the duke interjected.
"Why do you wish to marry me?" Sabrina asked.
"I
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