Susan Johnson Read Online Free

gossip sheets, such papers never reached remote hamlets such as Shoreham, where life went on much as it had for a millennium.
    Before Duff had advanced more than a few steps into the garden, she reached him and arrested his progress.
    “The Marquis of Darley at your service, Miss Foster.” Duff offered her the posy with an exquisite bow.
    “Good afternoon, my lord.” Her bow was less exquisite by design; she didn’t wish to appear in the least friendly. “My mother is ill,” she added coolly. “Otherwise, I would invite you to join us for tea.” Neither a blush nor a blink gave evidence of the real reason she wished him gone. “I trust you understand,” she murmured, playing her role with aplomb.
    “I’m sorry to hear it.” Duff’s expression was solicitous. “I hope your mother’s illness isn’t serious.”
    “She recently had a shock to her system.” Annabelle wasn’t inclined to divulge the details of Chloe’s death. “But I believe she’s slowly improving.”
    “Would you like my doctors to stop by? Both Dr. Carr and Dr. Stewart are excellent.”
    “No, but thank you. Time alone will heal her wounds, I fear.”
    “Then I wish her a speedy recovery. If I might be so bold, Miss Foster,” he went on, all soft-spoken cordiality, “would it be possible your mother could spare you briefly—at some future date, if not now?” The marquis indicated the horses with a nod of his head. “I brought the mare along in hopes you’d go riding with me.” As Annabelle opened her mouth to speak, he quickly interposed, “I understand your nursing duties come first. I just thought you might enjoy a ride on such a fine day. I assure you,” he added with a smile, “my intentions are benign.”
    “Allow me to refuse, my lord,” she replied with equal graciousness. “Although, in my experience,” she added with a deliberately enchanting smile, “men’s intentions are never benign.”
    “What if I were to say I just want to be friends?”
    Her brows rose. “Then you’d be the first man I’ve ever met who did.”
    “Consider me the exception.”
    She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “As if you don’t know you are, Duff.”
    He looked surprised at being addressed so familiarly.
    Her brows lifted again. “You don’t remember, do you?”
    He smiled faintly. “I admit to being drunk more than sober in my youth.”
    “We met in the green room after my second performance on the Drury stage. You offered me carte blanche.”
    “But you eventually took Walingame’s offer, I understand,” he said, his sisters’ gossipy dinnertime conversation suddenly recalled. “How is he, by the way?”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Ah.”
    She could tell he hadn’t heard, but then it was common gossip that the marquis had been in seclusion. “We are estranged.”
    “I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
    “At least you’re honest.”
    “What’s the point in subterfuge?”
    “My goodness, Duff, you quite contradict your gender in that regard.”
    He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. A woman of her background was seen only as an object of pleasure. There were rare exceptions to the rule—actresses who married into the nobility—but it was unusual.
    At that moment, a piercing baby cry rent the summer air and Annabelle cast a swift glance over her shoulder. “I really have to go,” she murmured.
    His gaze raked her form. “Is the babe yours?”
    “I don’t see that it’s any of your business,” she replied coolly.
    “Of course. Forgive me.” He should have known better. His tact had been blunted by long disuse.
    “Belle, Belle, darling!” Mrs. Foster cried, waving her arms in a come-hither motion. “Bring the nice man over for tea!”
    No matter her experience on the stage, this time Annabelle was unable to suppress the blush coloring her cheeks.
    “If I promise to behave, might I be allowed?” Darley inquired with a quirked grin, amused by her obvious embarrassment. “I shan’t