Love With a Scandalous Lord Read Online Free Page A

unwelcome stranger, his presence barely tolerated.
    However, her stepfather, true to his nature, more than made up for the lack of hospitality. He smiled broadly. “It’s good to see you, Rhys.”
    The Marquess looked as though he’d been slapped. “It’s Blackhurst now.”
    “Of course. My apologies for the slight. I was sorry to hear about Quentin.”
    The Marquess nodded slightly. “As we all were. I trust your journey was a pleasant one until you arrived at our hallowed halls.”
    Lydia knew little about the Marquess because her stepfather rarely mentioned the family he’d left in England. After witnessing the encounter with the Duchess and now listening to this uncomfortable exchange, she certainly understood the reason he’d been reluctant to speak of them.
    With his blue eyes twinkling, her stepfather seemed unaffected by all the rudeness that had come before. “Actually I have the misfortune of suffering from seasickness.”
    “I regret hearing that. It will, however, make your willingness to travel much more meaningful to Father. He awaits you.” He stepped back as though he fully intended to leave without another word.
    “How is he?” her stepfather asked quickly.
    The Marquess halted, seeming to hesitate, apparently unsure of how he should respond. “Not well at all, I’m afraid. He shan’t be with us much longer. I think he’s only been holding on because he wished so desperately to see you.”
    “I’d hoped for a more optimistic outlook.”
    “Perhaps I’m mistaken, and your arrival will turn the tide for him. By the way, on the off chance that no one explained to you before Mother flew into her tirade, you are welcome to use any of the rooms in this hallway, while you are here. I’ve assigned my personal servants to this wing and given them specific instructions to tend to all your needs. They will be most honored to do so.”
    “That’s very generous,” her stepfather said solemnly, as though he’d suddenly realized they were all in a play and expected to perform certain roles. “May I present my family?”
    “Certainly.”
    While her stepfather introduced her mother and the two children she’d had by him, everyone was formal, stiff, and somber.
    Awaiting her introduction, Lydia heard a roaring as though she held seashells to her ears. She was in desperate need of air, but her chest was constricted so tightly, she could scarcely draw in a breath. An eternity seemed to pass before she heard her stepfather finally say, “Allow me to introduce Lydia, our other daughter.”
    “ Your daughter?” the Marquess questioned.
    Something—she couldn’t quite determine if it was admiration or disgust—flashed in his eyes. She sensed that his earlier impression of her taken on the stairs had suddenly shifted and tilted for him. Now he was taking a new measure of her.
    “My stepdaughter, Lydia Westland , to be precise,” her stepfather said.
    “There is much to be said for precision,” the Marquess murmured.
    She’d feared he would find her lacking in some regard, but with his attention riveted on her, she felt confident in her desire to fit into this society. She lifted her hand.
    He looked momentarily startled. Then he took her hand with fingers that contained no calluses, abrasions, or scars from years of picking cotton. Fingers that despite a lifetime of leisure managed to reveal strength.
    He bowed slightly, and his warm breath wafted over her wrist. Her knees weakened, while he did nothing more than leave the shadow of a kiss against her skin.
    “A pleasure, Miss Westland,” he said solemnly.
    “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace,” she rushed to assure him, her voice almost as unsteady as her legs.
    He released her hand and straightened. “ My lord . You should not address me as Your Grace until after my father has drawn his last breath.”
    “Oh, yes, of course, I knew that. Really I did. I apologize for the blunder.”
    “No need to apologize. We learn more from our