Read Online Perfect Bride by Samantha James - Free Book Online Page A

inside her. She had wanted out of St. Giles, wanted it above all else! Ah, but at what cost? Her heart twisted. Sebastian Sterling was con vinced she was a thief. A thief . Never would Devon have dreamed of stealing. Never .
    At least, never again.
    For she had stolen once, a sweetened pastry from a confectionary. It had been so tempting, sitting on a pretty white plate painted with blue and yellow flowers, drizzled with honey. The shopkeeper’s back was turned, and she knew he would never see. With no more thought she snatched it from the plate and ran for all she was worth, all the way home.
    There, in the attic, she sank down upon the floor. She still remembered the way she’d crammed it in her mouth. The taste was incredible. Lusciously sweet.
    But Devon knew better. She hadn’t even been par ticularly hungry . . .
    Mama had caught her. “You stole it, didn’t you!”
    The pastry in her mouth turned to sand. It was all she could do to swallow it.
    There had been no need to answer.
    Mama was furious. “You will not steal, Devon St. James. We may live among the wicked, but we are not wicked.”
    To this day, Devon remembered the way she had felt. So guilty. So greedy.
    They had both cried afterward ...the first time she’d made her mother cry.
    And now tears threatened again, but she blinked them back. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t . She couldn’t change things. Freddie was dead.
    Nor could she stay here, in this house. His house. Not when he didn’t want her here. But she would have her necklace back.
    And then she would leave.
    Her gaze swung to the door. Determinedly she pushed aside the coverlet, easing to the side of the bed. The room spun giddily. The world seemed to dangle on end. She sat for a moment, pressing a shaky hand to her forehead. More than anything, she longed to crawl back within the inviting warmth of this soft, wonderfully wide bed. It was such a lovely room...What, she wondered yearningly, would it be like to live in such grandeur, to wear such soft garments as the night rail that even now co cooned her body? The rich wood floor was so highly polished she was certain she could see her reflection in it, had she tried. With the sunny yellow bed hang ings and gaily patterned coverlet, it was like being in the midst of a sunbeam.
    But he didn’t want her here.
    Just then she spied her bonnet, atop the chair. What was it he’d said?
    They’re looking for a woman with a large belly, a cloak, and a ridiculous bonnet .
    Her bonnet was most certainly not ridiculous, she thought furiously. Why, she prized it above all else! Mama had always bemoaned the fact that she’d never been able to buy her a bonnet. Devon vividly remembered the day she’d found it on the streets, shortly before she’d begun working at the Crow’s Nest. She’d been ecstatic, for it was her first. It mat tered not that it was blemished and stained, or that the profusion of yellow silk feathers and matching trim no longer stood straight and proud. She had imagined some pretty young miss twirling her um brella and strolling in Hyde Park on a sunlit day; in deed, she’d fancied that she was the young woman. And now it was hers, and for Devon, a find beyond price.
    Pressing her lips together, she slid from the bed to the floor. The effort sent pain streaking through her side. She stood cautiously for a moment, feeling her strength wane and fighting it desperately. Her knees went weak. She was stiff and sore and couldn’t even straighten her spine. She felt like an ancient hag and probably looked it.
    All of a sudden the door opened.
    “Bloody hell,” said a voice. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”
    She fixed an eye on him.
    “I should think it would be obvious. I’m leaving. And I thought you said the language of the gutter wouldn’t be spoken in your house. No doubt it’s dif ferent for the master, eh, my lord Shyte?”
    Sebastian ignored the jibe. She looked ridiculous, standing there in that seedy,