If I Fall Read Online Free Page B

too.”
    “Bridget!” her mother admonished, shocked.
    “It’s true, Mother!” Bridget replied, adamant. “Any woman that spoke to me made sure to ask, ‘Oh, and how is your sister?’” Bridget’s voice took on a quality of mock concern, her pitch eerily like that of Lady Whitford. “And any man who thought to talk to me could barely put two words together, as if they were afraid that I was tainted with the same man-repelling stain!”
    “For heaven’s sake, Bridget—” her mother tried, but Bridget would not be stopped.
    “This was to be
my
Season. How am
I
supposed to catch a husband when Sarah looks like she’s going to break into pieces at the idea of a dance? She should have just married the Duke—even if he did not love her. Everything would have been better!”
    “Bridget, that’s enough!” her father interrupted. “Such petulance is ugly.”
    Sarah could have heard a pin drop. Their father usually left the set downs to their mother. If such words from him landed heavily on Sarah all the way through the door, she could only imagine her sister’s expression.
    “Ugly it may be,” Sarah finally heard Bridget say shakily, “but it is the truth. And if you don’t do something, we may as well all dye our clothes black to join Sarah in mourning her lack of husband!”
    Sarah barely scooted back behind the potted palm in time to avoid the swinging door as her sister made a dramatic exit,unknowingly marching past the object of her fury and up the stairs without a backward glance.
    The door slowly creaked closed, a million years passing before the latch caught. Sarah caught the eye of the scrubbing footman again, but this time, before he looked away, Sarah knew the blush that crept up over his face was a mirror to hers.
    The young footman might feel for her, but Sarah was alone in her humiliation. Of all people, Bridget! Of her whole family, Bridget had been the most supportive, the one who had propped her up the most through the winter months in Portsmouth with little to do but watch the ships sail in and out of the harbor. The one who had immediately sworn a lifelong vendetta of hatred against the Duke of Rayne, as all good sisters do. The one who had their trunks packed to come back to London before the decision had even been made.
    Foolishly, Sarah had thought she was doing so in support of her. The fact that it was to be Bridget’s debut Season had completely slipped her admittedly preoccupied mind. But obviously, it had not slipped Bridget’s.
    So now, not only was Sarah miserable and wretched, but her mere presence was destroying her sister’s Season, too.
    Brilliant.
    Bridget—who had declared undying hatred of the Duke of Rayne—would marry her sister off to him, because that would be less miserable for everyone. Bitterness flooded Sarah’s mouth. So much for sisterly affection.
    Sarah was so caught up in her own burning frustration, she almost missed her father’s voice when it rumbled forth again.
    “I received a letter from the Portsmouth steward,” he began, his voice hesitant and careful. “He has asked that I return to oversee the installation of the new well. It shouldn’t take me more than a few days.”
    “Darling, I really would prefer if you didn’t leave just now,” her mother’s voice was honey and lemon—soothing but stern, the way it always sounded when she negotiated for what she wanted. “Or if you must, make it as short as possible. The Season has only just begun, and if Sarah is to endure, she needs the support of the family behind her.”
    “I was thinking I would take Sarah with me,” her fatherreplied, much to Sarah’s own surprise. And her mother’s, apparently.
    “What on earth for?” Lady Forrester asked.
    Her father paused a moment before answering.
    “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
    There was a pause, heavy in the air.
    “Neither did I,” her mother finally said softly. “But we’d hoped…”
    “Hoped, but not prepared,” her