Read Online The Earl's Revenge by Allison Lane - Free Book Online

noted.
    Send her and the nurse to Cornwall , he had suggested absently, his mind on other matters.
    Now, as he followed the butler up the stairs, he cringed, unwanted memories crowding his head. His wife’s death had meant nothing in itself, but he had been furious that the child was a girl. It made another marriage inevitable, and the prospect was more than daunting.
    He had managed to keep the agreement with his father secret for the entire year between that first disastrous betrothal and his marriage. Thank heaven he had been able to disappear immediately into Westron. Lady Bridgeport’s fury at having her will crossed proved even worse than anticipated. He later learned that his father had locked himself in the library and taken meals separately for several weeks for fear of a physical attack. Several servants had willingly departed without references rather than endure the countess’s tantrums.
    He tried to remember his wife, but could not bring her image to mind. She had been an insipid, quiet mouse, so uninteresting that he had barely been able to consummate the marriage. That was an unexpected flaw in his plans, for he had never before experienced such a problem. It had taken every bit of willpower he possessed to get a child on the chit. And then she had died, leaving him still in need of an heir. Out of consideration for his father, he allowed his mother to again choose his bride. But the wedding never took place.
    What wretched fate! Why, of all the spots he could have gone, had he chosen Cornwall? Where was his vaunted luck when he needed it? He had no desire to meet a child who could only remind him of a period he wished to forget.
    He was sorely tempted to leave immediately, except that the estate problems he had already noted must be addressed. Sighing, he entered a large chamber crowded with heavy walnut furniture and hung with deep red draperies. It was clean and showed no sign of damp. At the least the household staff seemed competent.
    * * * *
    An hour later there was still no sign of Federsham or his luggage, but Mark had washed away the dust of travel and was ready to meet his steward. The house dated to Elizabeth’s reign with few changes since its construction. The rooms contained no means to summon a servant, and the lack of anyone in residence meant that there were insufficient footmen to carry messages. That would have to change.
    He had reached the main staircase when running footsteps forced his eyes up to the second floor. A young girl was racing down the stairs, her face twisted in agony.
    “Never run on stairways!” he barked, hardly aware of the words as his eyes widened in shock. He was staring at a living portrait of himself at age seven – slender body, coltishly long legs, russet hair tumbled in disheveled curls, green eyes shining. But in her case, the glow was a sheen of tears.
    “Oh!” she gasped. “Who are you?” But she continued without waiting for a response. “Please help, sir. Nana has fallen and is in great pain. She cannot rise, and I am not strong enough to lift her. Please come!”
    Waiting only until he took the first step in her direction, she raced back up the stairs. His mind in chaos, Bridgeport followed.
    The girl moved so quickly that he was forced to break into a trot to keep up. She finally threw open a door at the end of a long hallway. The room was equipped as a Spartan nursery, but he had no time to take in the details. The old woman crumpled on the floor was feebly trying to rise, but even an untutored eye could tell that she had broken a hip. There was no sign of anyone else.
    “I brought help, Nana,” the girl announced, kneeling solicitously beside the old lady and laying a trembling hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Everything will be all right now. You’ll see.”
    “Thank you, dear Helen,” the nurse managed in reply. “Who is he?”
    “Oh, dear. I don’t know.” She stood and turned to Mark. “I am Lady Helen Parrish and this is my