Read Online Sweet Surrender by Cheryl Holt - Free Book Online

the woman insane?
    Yes, was the resounding answer.
    "She lied to me," he furiously sputtered.
    "About what?"
    "She agreed to remain until I could investigate her claim."
    "Obviously, she wasn’t serious."
    "But why leave?  She’s destitute; if nothing else, I’d have kept her warm and fed."
    "I’m betting she wasn’t too keen on your lewd guests.  She’s rather uppity.  She wouldn’t want the boy exposed to your corrupting influences."
    "I sent the girls to London just so she wouldn’t be offended!"
    "Don’t forget that when you first met her, you tossed her out.  She probably didn’t care for your cavalier manner.  You really can be overbearing.  If you’d treated me that way, I’d have left, too."
    "I do not understand women."
    "No, you never have."
    Jackson stood, pushing his chair back so rapidly that it tipped to the floor.  He threw his napkin on the table.
    "Where are you going?" Duncan inquired.
    "To find Miss Bennett."
    "Why?"
    "For the same reason I went after her before.  So she’s not running around the countryside, boasting paternity and causing a stir.  She is staying here until I decide that she’s not."
    "You don’t know her as I do." 
    "I consider myself lucky that I don’t."
    "She’s very stubborn."
    "As am I."
    "I wouldn’t expect her to meekly obey."
    "We’ll see about that," Jackson ominously threatened.
    He stomped out, shouting orders to have a horse saddled, to have his coat brought down.  In minutes, he was flying down the road.
     
    DC
     
    When Grace heard the approaching horse, she didn’t have to ponder the identity of the rider.  She’d recognize the clop of that stallion’s hooves anywhere.
    She sighed with resignation.
    At dawn, when they’d tiptoed out—Michael and Eleanor grumbling with every step—she hadn’t thought anyone would notice or mind.  She’d slipped that paltry note under her pillow, but hadn’t imagined a servant would read it or show it to him.
    Now, he was chasing them down.
    Why would he care that they’d departed?
    He didn’t want them at Milton Abbey, refused to accept that Michael was his nephew, and would vehemently deny any paternity.  And he was a scoundrel.
    After witnessing his debauched character, she was happy to allow him his fantasy where Edward had never married Georgina and Michael didn’t exist.  Yes, she’d vowed to remain, but she’d only relented so he’d stop nagging. 
    Her attempt to seek assistance from the Scott family had been foolish.  Mr. Porter had tried to warn her, but she’d forged ahead—when she should have exercised caution.
    They were in the village, seated on a bench outside the blacksmith’s barn.  They were waiting for Mr. Porter so they could arrange a ride to London.  Grace hadn’t the slightest clue how they’d survive once they arrived in the city.  She was fumbling around, out of ideas, penniless, and terrified.
    "I don’t know why we couldn’t have stayed at the Abbey," Michael complained.
    "I don’t, either," Eleanor agreed.  "I’m starving.  You could at least have let us eat breakfast." 
    "There were reasons we had to leave," Grace grudgingly admitted.
    "What were they?" Michael asked.
    She’d planned to shield them from reality, but didn’t they deserve an explanation?
    "I’m sorry, Michael," she said, "but Mr. Scott didn’t believe that Edward is your father, so he didn’t feel bound to extend any hospitality."
    "He didn’t believe us?"  Michael was gravely offended.  "I wish you’d have let me talk to him.  I don’t appreciate his denigrating my parents."
    "I wasn’t too thrilled myself," Grace muttered as Mr. Scott thundered into the village square.
    He reined in and urged his horse toward them.  They rose, morose and beaten down, like a trio facing the gallows.  With him mounted, he towered over them, appearing imperious and judgmental and in the right.
    "Miss Bennett," he snapped, "you promised you would remain at the Abbey."
    "I lied," she