Love's Price (Lord Trent Series) Read Online Free Page B

habits, in her grooming and deportment, yet she was poverty-stricken and a mere step away from living on the streets.
    Somewhere along the way, catastrophe must have befallen her. What had it been? Why was she all alone?
    His interest in her was astonishing. He never fretted over the commoners he met. He had his own difficulties that required his full attention, but Miss Stewart had captured his fancy.
    Tristan’s wedding to Miranda was scheduled for the last week of September, which was four months away, so Miss Stewart would be with him through the summer. The notion was refreshing and stimulating.
    “You’ll be glad to work for me, Miss Stewart,” he claimed. “In the end, you’ll be glad I pressured you into it.”
    “Miss Wilson hates me.”
    “What makes you say so?”
    “I spoke with her yesterday”—this was news Miranda had failed to mention—“and she was quite clear. She neither wants nor needs a companion, and if you insist on providing her with one, she doesn’t want it to be me. Her antipathy was tremendously apparent, and I don’t understand why you’d foist me off on her. Why torture me like this?”
    “As you said: I’m a tyrant. I relish cruelty. In fact, I live for it.”
    She snorted. “Would you be serious?”
    “All right, I will be. Miranda is eighteen, and she’s marrying my brother in the fall. She’s come to town while he is away, but I don’t have the time or energy to entertain her.”
    “Send her home, and your problem will be solved.”
    “She informs me that she must make wedding plans and shop for her trousseau. I can hardly deny her the opportunity.”
    “Am I to assist her with her wedding preparations, too?”
    She seemed pained, as if he’d strapped her to the rack and twisted the screws.
    “Yes.”
    “Lucky me.” She glanced down at her hands, her slender fingers clasping at the fabric of her skirt. “Don’t do this to me,” she softly implored. “Don’t put me through this ordeal. Please?”
    She peeked up, her vibrant green eyes beseeching, and though it was very strange, he suffered the most strident wave of affection for her. She looked young and earnest and vulnerable, and just then, had he been kinder or more considerate, he might have done anything for her.
    The sudden burst of compassion shocked him.
    He never attached himself to women, never bonded or agonized over their plights. While they were always eager to form an alliance with him , he never reciprocated the sentiment. His mother’s behavior had seen to that.
    When he was a boy, his mother had been seduced by Charles Sinclair, Lord Trent. Though she’d been a countess and married to James’s father, though she’d had two sons who’d needed her, she’d been swept away by the infamous rogue.
    She had fled to Paris with Trent, had consorted openly with him and even given birth to Trent’s bastard son. But eventually, Trent had left her there, pregnant and broke and alone. She’d died, still loving Trent, still foolishly praying for him to come back to her.
    Her shameful saga had ripped James’s life apart. Soon after she’d sneaked away, his father had begun to gambol as if he had no responsibilities either. James and Tristan had been like a pair of orphans, shuttled from school to school until there was no money to pay their tuition and no further credit to be extended.
    Through all the years of penury and neglect, James had stupidly waited for his mother to realize she’d erred and return, but she never had, and her callous conduct had taught him an important lesson: Women couldn’t be trusted.
    In the lofty circles where he roamed, observing the antics of the wives and daughters of his acquaintances, his low opinion had been validated over and over. So why did Miss Stewart incite a different reaction?
    He had no idea.
    The coach rattled to a halt in front of his town house, and the footmen occupied themselves with their arrival.
    “Don’t worry so much,” he told her. “It