Read Online To Sin With A Stranger by Kathryn Caskie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Caskie
Ads: Link
spun and hurried to retrieve her bonnet and mantle. She had no intention of marrying Sinclair. She had no intention of marrying anyone!
She had dedicated herself to aiding the widows of Corunna in memory of her brother…and the family he once had. If her father truly meant to toss her into a pigsty at the end of the Season, then she would simply take up lodging with one of the widows she assisted through her charity.
Grabbing at the ribbons of her poke bonnet, she tugged too hard, and instead of it slipping off the hook, the headband snagged on it and ripped.
A tear that had balanced inside her lashes splashed hotly upon her cheek and ran down her face. Not worrying over the torn band, she mashed the bonnet down upon her head and whirled her mantle around her shoulders.
Her father’s card slipped from her sleeve and fluttered to the entry hall floor. She bent and picked it up. She had no desire to seek out a mantua maker for a gown to attract the attention of that wicked Sinclair, but neither could she remain in the house with her father just now. And so she stashed the card inside her sleeve once more, and jerked open the front door.
A hackney, whose passenger she could not see, abruptly pulled away from the pavers before her house. Its sudden and unexpected movement startled her to such an extent that she did not at once notice the small bag beside her foot.
She crouched and opened it. Two guineas and one shilling were inside, along with a folded card.
She released the card from its creases and read:
So noble a lady. So noble a cause
.
It was written in a gentleman’s heavy hand, this she could tell, but there was no signature.
She rushed to straighten and stand, to call out and stop the hackney so she might thank the occupant for supporting the widows. But the hackney had already turned from Leicester Square for Green Street.
She peered down at the card again, and gulped down the residual sob poised in her throat. Hers was a noble cause, a worthy one. The stranger, her secret benefactor, was right about that.
She threw back her shoulders. No, she should not cower from this unimaginable chain of events that made her the center of interest for all of London Society. It would not last long, the
ton
’s appetite for scandal was fickle, and her humiliation would soon be exchanged for some other poor soul’s misfortune.
No, suddenly she knew just what to do.
A smile lifted the downturned edges of her lips. She raised her skirts from the ground and skipped down the steps for the street. She would hire a hackney to take her to Bond Street, where she would make use of her notoriety to quickly have a gown fashioned for her.
Then, while it was still hers to trade, she would use her fleeting fame at the upcoming ball to garner the
ton
’s support for her charity.
And if smiling prettily at a certain brute of a marquess, or rebuking him for his rudeness, brought her additional attention and extended her influence a little longer, she would do it—to generate as much money as she could for the widows of Corunna.
For her noble cause.
St. James’s Street
The hackney passed White’s four times before Sterling finally spotted Grant’s tall form heading up the slope of St. James’s Street for Piccadilly Street. “Turn right, here,” Sterling bade the driver, “then stop just around the corner.”
Grant hurried past two shops, then boarded the hackney. “Good news.”
While his brother struggled to catch his breath, Sterling waved the driver onward and back to Grosvenor Square. “How favorable is our position?”
“Very.” Grant was grinning now. “The wager has been accepted.”
“I know that. How much is in the book?”
“You don’t understand, Sterling. The wager has been met—all ten thousand pounds.” He chuckled. “A few other members are starting to duplicate your anonymous bet, since yours has already been accepted.”
Sterling covered his mouth with his hand and thought about what Grant
She had dedicated herself to aiding the widows of Corunna in memory of her brother…and the family he once had. If her father truly meant to toss her into a pigsty at the end of the Season, then she would simply take up lodging with one of the widows she assisted through her charity.
Grabbing at the ribbons of her poke bonnet, she tugged too hard, and instead of it slipping off the hook, the headband snagged on it and ripped.
A tear that had balanced inside her lashes splashed hotly upon her cheek and ran down her face. Not worrying over the torn band, she mashed the bonnet down upon her head and whirled her mantle around her shoulders.
Her father’s card slipped from her sleeve and fluttered to the entry hall floor. She bent and picked it up. She had no desire to seek out a mantua maker for a gown to attract the attention of that wicked Sinclair, but neither could she remain in the house with her father just now. And so she stashed the card inside her sleeve once more, and jerked open the front door.
A hackney, whose passenger she could not see, abruptly pulled away from the pavers before her house. Its sudden and unexpected movement startled her to such an extent that she did not at once notice the small bag beside her foot.
She crouched and opened it. Two guineas and one shilling were inside, along with a folded card.
She released the card from its creases and read:
So noble a lady. So noble a cause
.
It was written in a gentleman’s heavy hand, this she could tell, but there was no signature.
She rushed to straighten and stand, to call out and stop the hackney so she might thank the occupant for supporting the widows. But the hackney had already turned from Leicester Square for Green Street.
She peered down at the card again, and gulped down the residual sob poised in her throat. Hers was a noble cause, a worthy one. The stranger, her secret benefactor, was right about that.
She threw back her shoulders. No, she should not cower from this unimaginable chain of events that made her the center of interest for all of London Society. It would not last long, the
ton
’s appetite for scandal was fickle, and her humiliation would soon be exchanged for some other poor soul’s misfortune.
No, suddenly she knew just what to do.
A smile lifted the downturned edges of her lips. She raised her skirts from the ground and skipped down the steps for the street. She would hire a hackney to take her to Bond Street, where she would make use of her notoriety to quickly have a gown fashioned for her.
Then, while it was still hers to trade, she would use her fleeting fame at the upcoming ball to garner the
ton
’s support for her charity.
And if smiling prettily at a certain brute of a marquess, or rebuking him for his rudeness, brought her additional attention and extended her influence a little longer, she would do it—to generate as much money as she could for the widows of Corunna.
For her noble cause.
St. James’s Street
The hackney passed White’s four times before Sterling finally spotted Grant’s tall form heading up the slope of St. James’s Street for Piccadilly Street. “Turn right, here,” Sterling bade the driver, “then stop just around the corner.”
Grant hurried past two shops, then boarded the hackney. “Good news.”
While his brother struggled to catch his breath, Sterling waved the driver onward and back to Grosvenor Square. “How favorable is our position?”
“Very.” Grant was grinning now. “The wager has been accepted.”
“I know that. How much is in the book?”
“You don’t understand, Sterling. The wager has been met—all ten thousand pounds.” He chuckled. “A few other members are starting to duplicate your anonymous bet, since yours has already been accepted.”
Sterling covered his mouth with his hand and thought about what Grant
Similar Books
