Megan Frampton Read Online Free Page B

before, right after swallowing the vile-tasting pill: Marry her. Bring her to London. Establish her in Society, just enough to ensure no one would question her, then vanish into oblivion permanently, as he’d planned to do before meeting her. He could be someone’s knight in shining armor after all.
    The thought had made him chuckle, and he’d fallen asleep still laughing about it. In the morning, waking to see the look of concern on her face after one of his nightmares, it had still seemed like a good idea.
    To his surprise, when he’d posed the solution this morning, she hadn’t argued, beyond expressing the laughable idea that she was not a suitable bride for him. If anything, he wasn’t suitable for
her
—his addiction had become an all-consuming passion, a need that obviated any other.
    Which was his goal. The sweet oblivion of his dreams dulled memory, thought, emotion. Everything. If he hadn’t loved so much. If he hadn’t tried so hard.
    If he hadn’t, if he hadn’t, if he hadn’t
.
    At the worst times, right before he gave in and took his medicine, he could barely function through the agonized clamor of the memories in his head.
    But this—rescuing her, this woman who was so clearly at bottom, that might silence the voices. Make him feel again.
    Alasdair wasn’t going to fall in love with her. Just save her.

Chapter 3
    “Where is he?” Matthias grabbed Mary’s arm as soon as she left the room. He stepped on her bare toes as he shoved her against the wall and leaned in close to her face, smelling of cheap wine, sweat, and smoke.
    In other words, he smelled just like Matthias, or how he had taken to smelling in the month since their father’s death. And before that? She despised herself for not noticing his increasingly noxious habits.
    “He’s coming right back,” she said, edging sideways. It had been over an hour since the marquess had gone to see to their transportation. Mary had nothing to pack, so after she’d rinsed her face, she’d sat alone in the room, still except for the nervous twisting of her fingers. Upon hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, she’d leapt up to open the door. Her brother had pulled her out before she could slam it again. Or scream. Or kick him where it would hurt.
    She might be a vicar’s daughter, but she wasn’t very good at turning the other cheek.
    Matthias yanked her so close she could see the muscle twitching in his jaw.
    “I found some letters last night.” He smiled. It was no surprise that his smile made her stomach churn.
    “Letters?” she repeated. “Whose?”
    He tugged on her arm, forcing her to twist her shoulder so he wouldn’t pop it out of the socket. “Very interesting letters.” He leaned in even closer to her face. “From your whore of a mother. Amazing what you can find when you’re searching for another bottle of port.”
    Mary deliberately kept her expression blank. She didn’t dare ask him what they said. “And you brought them to me? How kind of you, brother.”
    She felt the hot exhale of his breath on her forehead. He let out a sharp bark of laughter. “No, stupid, I’m keeping the letters. And I’m keeping you. You could be worth a whole lot more than a few pounds.”
    She tried to pull herself out of his grasp, but could barely budge. “You can’t.”
    He continued on as though she hadn’t spoken. What was it about the men she knew that made them ignore her entirely? “We’re going to London to find her. She’s probably married to some lord, wearing diamonds to breakfast. She’ll pay to have you out of her life. She did it before, she’ll do it again.”
    Matthias’s words echoed the conclusions she herself had formed upon learning about her mother. Her mother would do
something
for her, wouldn’t she?
    Mary couldn’t bear to answer the question herself.
    She met his eyes, trying to squelch the fear his gaze spread all over her body. Especially the parts he’d struck. “No. I won’t go with