Read Online The Bride's Necklace by Kat Martin - Free Book Online

one of the new footmen simply could not resist.
    A niggling thought surfaced. Claire Temple wouldn’t have the slightest notion how to play a sophisticated game like chess, but her sister… Surely, Victoria Temple wasn’t masterminding the game.
    Few women played, even fewer did so with any amount of skill, yet the latest moves said this player knew what he—or she—was about. That his opponent might be Victoria Temple was, though somewhat farfetched, decidedly intriguing.
    Cord sat down in one of the ornate chairs and began to assess the board. The clock ticked and time slipped past. Lifting his black knight, Cord countered his opponent’s latest move.
     
    Tory stretched and arched her back, trying to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. Today had been even more difficult than the day before, the atmosphere below stairs openly hostile, Mrs. Rathbone’s silent anger grating on everyone’s nerves.
    As housekeeper, Tory could fire the serving woman and hire a replacement, but somehow that didn’t seem fair. What she needed to do was win the woman’s loyalty—but she had no idea how to go about it.
    Badly in need of fresh air, she walked over to the French doors leading into the garden, then found herself shoving them open and walking out beneath the warm summer sun. White clouds floated by overhead, one shaped like a dragon, the other a damsel in distress. Not liking the image, she wandered through the garden, which was lush and green with colorful crocuses blooming along the gravel paths and bright purple pansies yawning at her feet.
    She shouldn’t be out there. She was a servant, not a guest. Still, it had been so long since she had enjoyed the splash of water in a fountain, smelled the scent of lavender in the air. Pausing next to the round, tiered fountain, she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath of air.
    “Are you Mrs. Temple?”
    Tory’s eyes shot open. She looked down to see a small, dark-haired boy standing beside her. “Why, yes, I am.” She smiled. “And you must be Master Teddy Randall.”
    He grinned and she saw that two of his front teeth were missing. He was perhaps five or six, with great blue eyes and a smile that lit up his face.
    “How did you know my name?” he asked.
    “I overheard your mother and Lord Brant talking about you at breakfast,” she said.
    “I heard people talking about you, too.” He looked up into her face. “Why doesn’t anyone like you?”
    Tory’s smile slid away. “The earl was talking about me?”
    He shook his head. “A lady named Mrs. Rathbone and the cook. They said you were Lord Brant’s doxy. That’s why he hired you. What’s a doxy? I thought it was some kind of dog.”
    Her face must have been seven shades of scarlet. How dare they say such a thing! Thoughts of firing the woman resurfaced, but Tory tamped them down.
    “Well…a doxy is…is someone who does things she shouldn’t. But that is not at all the truth. And it is the very reason you must never listen to gossip.” She reached down and took hold of his hand. “You mentioned dogs,” she said, desperate for a change of subject. “Do you like puppies?”
    He vigorously nodded.
    “Well, then, you are in luck. There is a new litter just birthed out in the mews.”
    Teddy grinned and a dimple appeared in his cheek. “I love puppies. ’Specially little black fuzzy ones.”
    Tory smiled. “Come on, then.” Still holding on to his hand, she started leading him through the garden. “Why don’t we have a look?”
    They were just walking into the shadowy interior of the carriage house, Teddy clinging to her hand, when she spotted Lord Brant on his way out.
    He paused just in front of them. “Well, I see you two have become acquainted.”
    Mrs. Rathbone’s words came rushing back, sending hot color into her cheeks. She wanted to shout at him, tell him the gossip was entirely his fault, but in truth it was her fault as much as his, since she never should have accepted the