A Marquess for Christmas (Scandalous Seasons Book 5) Read Online Free Page A

marquess.
    Penelope frowned. “Mother’s concerned this has something to do with that…him .”
    That…him …had become the term used when referring to Albert Marshville.
    Albert Marshville, cad, scoundrel, fiend, and every horrid word between happened to be the brother of their dearest sister-in-law, Juliet. As a result, the Tidemore sisters seemed hesitant to fully ascribe an appropriate charge for the man who’d ruined Patrina’s good reputation.
    Penelope began hesitantly, “Never tell me you’re still harboring affection for—”
    Her fingers slipped on the keys. “No.”
    Their youngest sister, Poppy chewed her lower lip. “You’re certain. Because—”
    “I’m certain,” Patrina said, snapping the cover closed on her instrument. With a sigh she accepted the end of her dreams of peace this day.
    The girls shared a look. “We hate seeing you this way,” Penelope murmured. “You’re ever so sad—”
    “Except today,” Poppy interjected. “Today she returned from…from…wherever she goes, with a smile.”
    Prudence and Penelope spoke in unison, with wide eyes. “She did?”
    Patrina pointed her gaze to the ceiling and prayed for deliverance from these her vexing sisters. Their outrageous behaviors gave her a renewed appreciation for the great chore given Mother in rearing four troublesome daughters—her present self not excluded, of course.
    Poppy nodded emphatically. “She did. And now she won’t tell me, er, tell us, anything.”
    Three accusing stares swung back in her direction.
    And because Patrina recognized she had little hope of peace and solitude if she didn’t give her tenacious sisters something, she slipped them a niggling of the truth. “Two little troublemakers set upon me at Hyde Park today and hurled snowballs at me.”
    Poppy gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. “That is hor…er, horrendous,” she corrected.
    The girls’ former governess, turned sister-in-law, Juliet, after she’d gone and wed their brother, Jonathan, the 5 th Earl of Sinclair, had striven to strike the oft-used word horrid from the girls’ vernacular.
    Prudence continued to frown. “That is not funny.”
    “It really isn’t, Patrina.” Penelope nodded in agreement.
    She smiled and remembered the two little hellions so very much like the three girls before her now. Albeit vastly younger versions of the three, but similar nonetheless. “I returned the favor.”
    Poppy laughed. “Well done, Patrina. I didn’t believe you knew how to do anything fun anymore.”
    She frowned. Whatever did her sister mean by such a statement?
    As if following her unspoken thoughts, Poppy said, “Not because of that…him , but because you’ve never been the laughing sort.”
    “I am the laughing sort,” she replied instantly. Her sisters exchanged a look, and she shook her head at their silent, blatant disagreement. “I am,” she said and snapped her skirts. “The laughing sort,” she expanded.” She tossed her head and stepped a deliberate path around the troublesome misses. “And I know how to do…fun things,” she muttered to herself as she sailed from the room.
    “No, you don’t.” Poppy’s sharp laughter followed her down the corridor.
    Patrina’s frown deepened. Not fun, indeed. How very insulting of her sisters to say such a thing. Just because she’d never descended into quite the same level of mischief as the three younger girls didn’t mean she hadn’t been fun or the laughing sort. As she made her way abovestairs, she thought of her exchange in Hyde Park with the Marquess of Beaufort. Somber, scowling, and unsmiling, he’d been.
    Is that how her sisters saw her? Is that how the world saw her?
    She turned down the corridor that led to her chambers. The steady tick-tock of the longcase clock punctuated her quiet steps. It hadn’t been her fault that when she’d come out, there had been a remarkable dearth of suitors. Hence her pathetic grasping for the pretty compliments Albert