Read Online The Demon of Darkling Reach (The Black Prince Book 1) by P. J. Fox - Free Book Online Page B

almost the same aphrodisiac as ill-tanned leather and horse dung.
    Her father led her into his study and, motioning her toward the armchair facing his desk, sat down behind it in the room’s only other chair. She sat, feeling anxious; what was this about? He steepled his fingers, studying her. He was, if anything, more anxious than she.
    Finally, he drew a deep breath. “Daughter,” he began, the formal endearment sounding strange on his tongue, “I have something to tell you.”
    “Oh?” she asked.
    “I’m sure,” he said disingenuously, “that you’ll be pleased.”
    She waited. Pleased, she wondered? With what?
    “You,” the earl told her, pasting a smile on his face that looked vaguely neurotic, “are to be married! What wonderful news,” he rushed on, purposefully not giving her the chance to speak. “And I’m sure you’ll want to rush off and tell your sister—”
    “What?” Isla managed to choke.
    Her father’s smile grew more fixed, and more alarming. “His Grace, it seems, has taken quite a fancy to you. When I met with him this morning, he expressly indicated his wish that you, rather than your sister”—and here, he tried and failed to cover his own shock—“be party to the contract. So this is good,” he continued inanely, “because now we’ve found you a husband and I’m sure you’ve been of a mind to get married. Which—”
    “I see,” Isla said bitterly. She certainly hadn’t forgotten that she’d all but thrown herself at the duke and knew perfectly well that she had no one to blame for her current predicament but herself. Still, the ease with which her father had thrown her to the wolves rankled her more than she would have believed. “As no one else would ever want me, is that it? You seem to have arranged this, first one marriage and then the other without consulting either Rowena or myself!” Isla was practically shouting at her father, overcome by the jumble of unexpected and unwanted emotions fighting for dominance inside her. She’d thought that, if this moment ever came—with the duke or anyone—she’d be calm. She was not.
Calm
wasn’t even in her vocabulary. She wanted to lash out. At something; anything; at her father. At herself. She wanted to claw his eyes out and then her own and then hurl herself from the tallest battlement she could find.
    “Daughter, the duke is a fine man—and very wealthy. I’m sure you’ll be happy,” he hastened to add.
    “How much were you paid?” Isla asked.
    Her father swallowed. “One thousand guineas,” he said quietly.
    “Now or later?”
    “Both.”
    “Your debts must total at least half that.” Isla’s tone was caustic, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hurt him, as he’d hurt her by throwing her away—by putting them all in this position, the wretched excuse for a pair of breeches. “Everyone knows that Apple spent four guineas on shoes last year alone.” Four guineas, when a decent pair of shoes cost four pence and a pair of the finest silk slippers twice that.
    “There is…nothing we can do about that now.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He seems…fond of you.”
    Isla snorted, an unladylike noise that caused her father’s eyebrow to arch slightly. But really, she thought bitterly, what was he going to say? He’d just signed her into the custody of a murderer; was he really going to correct her manners? Deflating a little, she stared down at her hands. She’d wanted this, hadn’t she? She’d asked for it forcibly enough. Apparently the duke had taken her at her word that she wanted to spare Rowena; after all, he was equally indifferent to both women. What did it matter if he took home one versus the other?
    “I….” She trailed off.
    “What?” her father asked.
    Surprisingly, she found herself answering him. “Rowena is so much prettier,” she said.
    “Do you truly think so?” His tone was surprisingly gentle. “You’re a lovely girl, as lovely as a lily.