Patrica Rice Read Online Free

Damien, do you know the very best modiste? Or will Jane? I want to feel like the best dressed female in all London. The Countess of Reister ought to be, don't you agree?" Then reining in this pleasant fantasy, she added, "Should you go 'round to Jane's now? We really can't continue this silliness until we know what happened to her."
    "I know perfectly well what happened to her," Damien replied dryly, "but I shall go around and verify it for your sake. Have a bit of a rest, and I'll see what your caretakers can do about summoning up some food. Do they have a household account?"
    From that, Melanie quickly deduced that bribing the vicar had cost Damien his last coin. For a proud man, that must be an embarrassing circumstance. She nodded toward the reticule she had left on the night table. "The grocers and such send the bills to my solicitor for payment. I don't believe the Harrises have much coin. I certainly have enough for a meat pie or two. I had hoped to find Jane a pretty present in the village, but I got away too late."
    Nodding curtly, he rose and emptied the reticule into his pocket. "As a fortune hunter, I soon must get used to this, but for now, I shall just relish the thought that I am spending Jane's wedding gift on something that we will appreciate more than she would."
    He walked out, leaving Melanie with little opportunity to find words of reassurance. She ached for the pain he must feel, finding some similarity with her own. In a way, they were both handicapped, but Damien's disability crippled his pride more than hers. She had grown accustomed to pitying looks. He never would. She must find some way to help him stand on his own, as she did.
    * * * * 
    Damien watched with amusement as his new “wife” exclaimed over the multitudinous bolts of cloth set before her. She behaved as if he had just given her Christmas a hundred times over. Silks and satins, velvets and muslins lay scattered around her chair in a rainbow of colors, and still she squealed with delight each time the modiste brought forth a new one. He hadn’t known spending someone else’s money could be so pleasant.
    He knew himself for a cad and a bounder, an unscrupulous fortune hunter with every intention of trapping this enchanting innocent in his web. He’d thought he’d lowered himself as far as he could go by persuading Jane she would make an excellent countess, that the title would add to her prestige. He and Jane were two of a kind, predators in the society that fed them. He had come to loathe her as much as he loathed himself, but he needed the money and she was the quickest way to it. To substitute Jane’s innocent sister for Jane was the most caddish thing he could do, but it was too late to turn back now. Jane had escaped his net. Melanie wouldn’t.
    He rationalized his actions by telling himself he would do everything in his power to make her happy, but he knew ultimately, he would destroy that happiness. It couldn’t happen any other way. The reason he needed Melanie and her money would be the very thing that destroyed her.
    Still, he would give her what he could, while he could. She had time to run away. The one thing he wouldn’t do was take her to his bed until the vows were said. He could seduce her with a million little lies, but not the final one. He would return her whole to her parents if she chose against him. Unless he behaved like the cad he was, he didn’t think she would go against him. Melanie had a loving heart. She would have him.
    As they left the modiste and headed for the bootmakers, she looked up at him anxiously. “Should we check at Jane’s again? Perhaps she has had second thoughts and returned home.”
    He’d told her Jane had left for an extended stay with a friend in Hampshire. In reality, he’d returned to his former rooms and found a message in Jane’s furious scribbles calling him every name in the book and some he hadn’t heard before. Some bastard had obviously revealed his little secret