Read Online Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) by Natasha Blackthorne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Natasha Blackthorne
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clock had rung eleven in the morning, the maids who had been working
half-heartedly and finding any excuse to haunt the upstairs corridor broke into
shrieks of joy.
A second son had been born into Blackmore
Castle.
Lady Ruel rose from her bed within the
week and became all but obsessed with the complete care and well-being of this
infant son. In addition, she was nearly as vigilant about the elder, Jonny, who
she was determined would not contract any lung fevers this year.
She literally never left the nursery
wing.
In her absence, Lady Charlotte became a
regular hellion, if not more truthfully told, a bully.
Davey was loath to raise a hand, even in
defense, to a cousin who was younger, much less a girl.
Under the circumstances, Miranda pled a
graceful exit and, not eager to face a full staff of servants who were
potentially still loyal to Jane Sutherland, she escaped with Davey to her house
in Chelsea.
When informed of the change via letter,
Adrian had not been exactly happy about her decision. But he had accepted it.
In fact, his letters had become shorter
and terser in tone as time had gone on.
Now he had been gone seven whole months.
Heaviness weighed on Miranda’s chest and
she took a ragged breath and forced herself to smile and make pleasant talk
with Anne.
All the awkwardness and bruised feelings
in the wake of her departure from Blackmore Castle had eased by now.
Thankfully.
Lady Ruel was one of the quietest women
that Miranda had ever known but one must only direct the conversation to her
children and she became most animated, her olive face glowing with love and
pride.
But Miranda had come today so that she
might speak with Lord Ruel.
She couldn’t help glancing at the
doorway, each time her heart seeming to leap into her throat as her anxiety
rose.
Finally, the sound of boot falls echoed
in the withdrawing chamber and she looked up to see his tall, powerful frame in
the doorway.
Lord Ruel’s face bore a shadow of stubble
and the lines about his hard mouth seemed deeper as though with strain or
fatigue. He still wore his blue and buff suit that marked him as a Whig. He had
likely just come from a night of debate in the House of Lords.
Never had his fierce visage inspired such
a warm feeling in Miranda, a relieving balm over her sore heart.
Surely, he would know the truth. And then
she could stop her endless worry and the heaviness would lift from her chest.
She could eat and sleep again.
“Papa! Papa!” Midhurst cried excitedly,
standing on his thin legs and rushing over to meet his father. “Will we go
riding?”
Lord Ruel ruffled his son’s dark hair,
his tired expression lightening and his dead eyes coming alive. He exchanged a
quick, amused glance with Anne. “Aye, we’ll go riding but later,” the earl
replied.
The boy chortled, dancing a bit in his
obvious joy. Then he turned towards Miranda. “Lady Danvers has come for a
visit.”
Ruel smiled. “Good afternoon, Lady
Danvers.”
Miranda longed to simply blurt out her
questions. But she knew she couldn’t be so rude.
Like automation, she smiled and exchanged
greetings, only with great effort holding back from gushing the questions that
burned on the tip of her tongue.
But she must wait.
Wait whilst he sat beside his wife on the
rich burgundy velvet settee and bent close to kiss her cheek. Anne flushed
slightly, her dark eyes sparkling.
Midhurst climbed onto the settee, nearly
slipping off the silken richly hued velvet but Ruel caught him and pulled the
toddling boy, who was small for his age, into his lap.
More pleasantries.
Lord Ruel patiently chatted with
Midhurst, discussing what the child had been doing thus far today.
Normally, Miranda adored this kind of
family interaction and the fact that she was accepted into their fold and
allowed to witness such intimate moments. But today, the questions burned to be
asked.
Yet, she must wait through a seemingly
endless round of questions about her health. Davey’s
clock had rung eleven in the morning, the maids who had been working
half-heartedly and finding any excuse to haunt the upstairs corridor broke into
shrieks of joy.
A second son had been born into Blackmore
Castle.
Lady Ruel rose from her bed within the
week and became all but obsessed with the complete care and well-being of this
infant son. In addition, she was nearly as vigilant about the elder, Jonny, who
she was determined would not contract any lung fevers this year.
She literally never left the nursery
wing.
In her absence, Lady Charlotte became a
regular hellion, if not more truthfully told, a bully.
Davey was loath to raise a hand, even in
defense, to a cousin who was younger, much less a girl.
Under the circumstances, Miranda pled a
graceful exit and, not eager to face a full staff of servants who were
potentially still loyal to Jane Sutherland, she escaped with Davey to her house
in Chelsea.
When informed of the change via letter,
Adrian had not been exactly happy about her decision. But he had accepted it.
In fact, his letters had become shorter
and terser in tone as time had gone on.
Now he had been gone seven whole months.
Heaviness weighed on Miranda’s chest and
she took a ragged breath and forced herself to smile and make pleasant talk
with Anne.
All the awkwardness and bruised feelings
in the wake of her departure from Blackmore Castle had eased by now.
Thankfully.
Lady Ruel was one of the quietest women
that Miranda had ever known but one must only direct the conversation to her
children and she became most animated, her olive face glowing with love and
pride.
But Miranda had come today so that she
might speak with Lord Ruel.
She couldn’t help glancing at the
doorway, each time her heart seeming to leap into her throat as her anxiety
rose.
Finally, the sound of boot falls echoed
in the withdrawing chamber and she looked up to see his tall, powerful frame in
the doorway.
Lord Ruel’s face bore a shadow of stubble
and the lines about his hard mouth seemed deeper as though with strain or
fatigue. He still wore his blue and buff suit that marked him as a Whig. He had
likely just come from a night of debate in the House of Lords.
Never had his fierce visage inspired such
a warm feeling in Miranda, a relieving balm over her sore heart.
Surely, he would know the truth. And then
she could stop her endless worry and the heaviness would lift from her chest.
She could eat and sleep again.
“Papa! Papa!” Midhurst cried excitedly,
standing on his thin legs and rushing over to meet his father. “Will we go
riding?”
Lord Ruel ruffled his son’s dark hair,
his tired expression lightening and his dead eyes coming alive. He exchanged a
quick, amused glance with Anne. “Aye, we’ll go riding but later,” the earl
replied.
The boy chortled, dancing a bit in his
obvious joy. Then he turned towards Miranda. “Lady Danvers has come for a
visit.”
Ruel smiled. “Good afternoon, Lady
Danvers.”
Miranda longed to simply blurt out her
questions. But she knew she couldn’t be so rude.
Like automation, she smiled and exchanged
greetings, only with great effort holding back from gushing the questions that
burned on the tip of her tongue.
But she must wait.
Wait whilst he sat beside his wife on the
rich burgundy velvet settee and bent close to kiss her cheek. Anne flushed
slightly, her dark eyes sparkling.
Midhurst climbed onto the settee, nearly
slipping off the silken richly hued velvet but Ruel caught him and pulled the
toddling boy, who was small for his age, into his lap.
More pleasantries.
Lord Ruel patiently chatted with
Midhurst, discussing what the child had been doing thus far today.
Normally, Miranda adored this kind of
family interaction and the fact that she was accepted into their fold and
allowed to witness such intimate moments. But today, the questions burned to be
asked.
Yet, she must wait through a seemingly
endless round of questions about her health. Davey’s
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