Josie Dennis Read Online Free Page A

Was she used to harsh treatment at the abbey and expecting the like from her? There was no mistress of the grand home, true. Whom did she serve?
    The gossip she’d overheard when last here whispered through her mind. Something about the general and Frederick exerting their power as masters over their servants. She would put nothing past the general. That was certain. He was as cold and stern as any man she’d ever encountered despite his apparent acceptance of her in particular. She didn’t doubt he would treat his servants like chattel. Would Frederick take liberties with…No!
    Isabella watched the girl more closely as she finished with her hair. Had the maid done the things with Frederick that Isabella had nearly done? She was fresh-faced and pretty. The hair she glimpsed beneath her cap was as blonde as her own, if styled austerely. Her figure within her simple gown was buxom. She was situated at a far-flung estate with only males to serve.
    “Miss?” the maid asked, her brows drawn together. “Are you not satisfied?”
    Isabella shook her head to clear it. “Quite. Thank you.”
    The girl dropped a curtsy and left without another word. Isabella stood and studied her reflection for a long moment. She looked beyond presentable, her bodice dipping low but not too low for a girl of her twenty-one years. She was still a maiden, though barely. Once again that stab of hunger pierced her center. With both Frederick and James here at the abbey she doubted her virginity would persist. Did she even want it to? The thought came unbidden. Was she finally willing to choose a man to be with forever?
    “Pity I can choose only one,” she murmured.
    She left the room, bound for the parlor to await dinner with the other guests and their hosts.
     
    * * * *
     
    “Whatever could you be looking for, Miss Thorne?”
    The masculine whisper caused bumps to raise over her flesh and a heat to infuse her. Isabella sucked in a breath, smelling the unique scent of Frederick Tilman. Bold, masculine with a hint of spice. The cigar he’d had after dinner and the brandy he’d imbibed. It was a complex, heady flavor and one she longed to taste.
    The hour was late, most everyone gone up to their chambers. She herself had escaped to her guest room, only venturing out to seek something to help her find sleep. Perhaps she should have shocked everyone present and drunk down the brandy the men had shared while the sexes had separated. As it was, stone-cold sober, she’d taken a turn and ended up in a dark corridor in the family’s wing of the estate.
    She licked her lips and turned to find Frederick staring down at her. “I merely went for a walk, Mr. Tilman.” She squared her shoulders. “I couldn’t sleep, not that it’s any concern of yours.”
    He gave a short laugh. “Tell me you aren’t thinking about it right now.”
    “About what, pray?” His lips, his touch, his… “I am afraid I cannot catch your meaning.”
    One dark brow arched. “You cannot? Come, Isabella. You remember our encounter when last you were at the abbey.”
    She swallowed, her throat tight. “A great many things happened during that visit, Mr. Tilman. Including indulgences on your part, though perhaps that subject is best left alone.”
    He laughed, a low, rasping sound. “Spreading tales? Do not believe everything the staff says.”
    She stepped away from him. “Your behavior is of no consequence to me, I’m sure.”
    “But what of your brother’s?” His eyes grew dark. “Or my brother’s?”
    “What?”
    “Why, do you not know about our brothers’ relationship with your friend—ah, I should say ‘your sister’?”
    She couldn’t form a word. There was something among the three of them, a closeness and affection that John, Henry, and Catherine shared. But that was something so sweet and tender that this scoundrel could never countenance it.
    Frederick came closer. “I wager they’re with her right now. Fucking her together.”
    She gasped, at