The Lady Series Read Online Free Page B

that named them kin, being almond shaped and so dark a brown they seemed black.
    “I see you yet staff this place with cripples and sinners despite my command to the contrary.”
    Anne lifted her chin. “I do my mother will.” It was only a partial lie. Frances had never denied Anne’s penchant for rescuing those on whom society had turned its back. Frances allowed it, believing Anne but reflected the compassion expected of one of God’s elect.
    “Your mother?” her grandsire snapped back in scorn. “What little wit she ever owned was taken from her two and twenty years ago.”
    Outrage burned in Anne’s cheeks. As she opened her mouth to defend her dam Frances’s hand tightened on hers in a warning against impertinence. Where Amyas couldn’t command her, her mother could. However reluctantly, Anne held her tongue.
    The pendant pearls on his garters swinging with each step, Amyas came to a stop before Anne and caught her by the chin, forcing her face up toward his as if to better see her. His gaze cataloged her face the way he had the items in the room.
    “What are you doing?” Anne protested, wrenching free of his grasp. She stepped back from him, releasing her mother’s hand as she did so.
    “I’ll handle my heir as I please,” he shot back.
    “What sort of nonsense is this?” Anne retorted, her brows lowered as she took yet another backward step. “My sister’s death made me my father’s heir, not yours. My cousin takes all you own when you’re gone.”
    Amyas’s expression flattened. He pivoted to the hearth, his back to them. Silence filled the room as he lifted a foot and toed at the logs. One split, showering sparks as it popped, the new pieces revealing a heart glowing bright red.
    “That damn fool went and broke his neck in a fall from his horse a week ago,” he told the dancing flames, no pity or grief in his harsh voice.
    Anne’s heart froze. She glanced at her mother. Terror filled Frances's eyes.
    “No,” Anne retorted, shaking her head in refusal. “This still doesn’t make me your heir. Is not his wife pregnant?” That child would be in line for Amyas’s wealth before Anne.
    Amyas lifted his head toward her. In that instant his face seemed softer than usual. Did he grieve? Then the fire’s uncertain light shifted and Anne saw it had been but a trick of the shadows. His expression was as stony as ever.
    “The stupid cow grew hysterical upon hearing the news and fell into an early labor. Both she and the babe followed my grandson into the grave. She failed me, just as he did, just as did his brother and your useless sisters. They all failed me, not one of them leaving a child behind them to follow me. You, such as you are, are all I have left.
    “And,” he said, stepping forward to again catch her chin, his grip unbreakable this time, “I will look upon my heir.”
    Too shocked to resist, Anne let Amyas take inventory of her features. The movement of his gaze across her face marked the tiny peak of dark brown hair at the center point of her forehead, the gentle arch of her brows, the short length of her slightly too wide nose and the lush curl of her lips. Lifting his thumb, he touched the wee mole at the corner of her mouth, the expensive leather of his gloves cool and soft upon her face.
    When he was done satisfaction glowed like bits of gold in his dark eyes as he released her chin. “I thought I remembered you as a pretty thing. It’ll serve you well in your new position.”
    Anne blinked. Chambermaids and governesses had positions, not gentlewomen. “You mean my wedding,” she corrected.
    “Do I?”
    Her grandsire crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his boot heels. Smug satisfaction glowed in his dark eyes. “As the final Blanchemain and my sole heir I can afford to look high for your husband, even into the nobility. To that end I’ve secured your appointment as maid-of-honor to Her Gracious Majesty, the Queen of England.” He added the slightest