Marshal and the Heiress Read Online Free Page A

makes any sense. And he’ll bloody well kick off those tenants with a hell of a lot less than I would. He’s obviously after money, and he won’t be feeling any need to give it away to a bunch of poor farmers—family loyalty be damned.”
    â€œHe can’t destroy Calholm any faster than you would,” Lisbeth retorted, feeling sick inside. Hugh was right. Her cause was probably hopeless. Still, she had to believe—for Jamie’s sake, for the sake of all the families who depended upon Calholm to survive.
    She had sufficient funds to maintain herself in a comfortable if not lavish manner. Jamie had left some money in trust. And her lifelong tenancy in the Calholm home was secured, though she doubted she would want to remain here if Hugh had control of the estate. Remaining would not mean much to her then, not if she couldn’t keep her promises to Jamie and Jamie’s father.
    â€œI wonder what he’s like,” Barbara mused. “I haven’t met any Americans.”
    Lisbeth noted Hugh’s swift glance toward Barbara, and she almost felt sorry for him. He thought Barbara was his; indeed, Lisbeth knew the two of them had been carrying on a liaison almost from the moment Hugh had arrived at Calholm. Had they been two other people, Lisbeth might have believed it was a matter of love at first sight. But Hugh had a long and honestly won reputation as a rake, and Barbara an equally well earned image as a flirt. A gleam already sparkled in her eyes at the thought of a new man at Calholm.
    And the American would be susceptible. Every man was. Barbara was a great beauty and had the charm to match. If she didn’t use these assets for all the wrong reasons, Lisbeth probably would have liked her. In many ways, Barbara was like a child: pleasant and happy as long as she got what she wanted.
    It was early November, but Barbara had already depleted her year’s allowance— more than her year’s allowance. Lisbeth knew she would never again see the money she had lent Barbara, and she’d refused to lend her more, despite Barbara’s continued requests. Everything Lisbeth had was needed for the horses, their training and feed—a fact that Barbara resented.
    Hugh glared at Barbara. “He’s probably an old rustic. Not your type at all.” Then he added slyly, “He might prefer Lisbeth.”
    Lisbeth didn’t much care for Barbara’s amused smile, even though she knew she wasn’t a beauty. She’d never even tried to be, considering the expenditure of the time it required a waste.
    â€œOr perhaps he has a wife,” Lisbeth countered, although Mr. Alistair hadn’t mentioned one. Or he might be old and rickety, as Hugh suggested. Old and rickety probably wouldn’t stop Barbara, though, not if she could get her hands on Calholm.
    Suddenly Lisbeth lost her appetite. Too much depended on Ben Masters—and his integrity. Unfortunately, with the exception of Jamie, most men she’d met lacked that quality. And even Jamie had been unable to deny Barbara anything she really wanted.
    â€œHe’ll be short and fat,” Hugh was saying, knowing that Barbara preferred handsome men. And Hugh was handsome.
    Barbara gave him an infuriatingly smug look.
    â€œIf you—” he started to threaten, and Lisbeth could bear no more.
    She rose from the table, and her dog, Henry the Eighth, who had been lying next to her chair, rose with her.
    â€œDo you have to bring that beast into the dining room?” Barbara asked. “I don’t imagine the Yankee will approve.”
    Henry the Eighth, a huge, wooly beast, stretched, ignoring Barbara as he always did. He didn’t care for Hugh or Barbara any more than his mistress did.
    His tail hit Barbara’s chair with a resounding thump, and she jumped slightly. Henry wagged it again in utter defiance, and Lisbeth had to grin. Henry was a continuing bone of contention in the