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Authors: Eileen Richards

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Nathaniel sighed. “If her relations were anyone else, I might consider, but not this family.”
“It was a long time ago, Nathaniel.” Tony sat across from him. “Do you really blame Sophia and her sisters for their father's sins?”
Nathaniel studied his brother for a moment. How much should he tell him? He fought the urge to protect him, but decided against it. It was time for Tony to deal with the consequences of his choices. “Have you met Sir John, the brother?”
Tony shook his head.
At least he wasn't moving in those circles—yet. “I caught him cheating at cards at White's.”
“Does Grandmother know?”
“No one does.” Nor would they, if he had anything to do with it. “You certainly can pick them, Tony.”
“I had no idea!” Tony plopped back into his chair and draped one leg over the arm. “I still think you should meet the family. It will at least prove that the sins of the father have nothing to do with the children.”
Nathaniel sighed. “If you insist.” He had no doubt that the girls would be charming. He already liked Anne Townsend. Hell, even Sir John was charming when he wanted to be, but good manners did not imply scrupulous behavior. In his experience, good manners served more as a veneer for the unscrupulous to hide behind.
* * *
Anne walked briskly toward home as the wind picked up. She pulled her shawl around her and quickened her pace. The old lady she'd spotted at the steps must be from Beetham. Or perhaps the Gypsies were back in the village, though they usually went south before now. It'd be easy enough to find out. Beetham was a thriving community of gossips. Someone would know who the old lady was.
She should be focusing on Nathaniel Matthews. Not because he was handsome as sin, but because of why he was here.
To keep his brother from marrying Sophia.
Instead, she was worrying about some old lady and fairies. But there were no fairies.
The air came alive with sound, causing Anne to jump. She looked around her to see Cecil Worth, the vicar, leaning against a tree, watching the path back to the cottage. She quickly stepped back out of his line of sight. Maybe he wouldn't see her. Please God, don't let him see her.
“Miss Townsend!”
Lovely. Could this day get any worse? “Mr. Worth.” She dipped a curtsy. “What brings you out this far?”
“I was hoping to find you, Miss Townsend. Miss Sophia said you walk this way most days.” He doffed his hat and bowed prettily. He was dressed in a blue coat that stretched across his girth.
“You came to see me? For what reason?” In the three years he had been the vicar of St. Michael's, he'd never even noticed her before.
“Do I need a reason to visit a young lady?” He chuckled as he replaced his hat with a flourish. “My dear Miss Townsend, I have shocked you.”
“Sir, I—uh.” Shock was an understatement. While the man never missed a chance to speak with the lovely Sophia, he wasted no time on plain Anne Townsend. Being plain and poor had a dampening effect on most men's ardor.
He moved closer to her and smiled. “I imagine you have come to expect only sermons from me.”
She took a step back, not liking the strange heat in his pale gray eyes or his scent. The man had apparently bathed in perfume. “You are the vicar, sir. Why would I expect anything else?”
He clutched dramatically at his chest. “Ah, you wound me, Miss Townsend.”
Anne forced a laugh at his comical expression. “Then I offer my apologies.”
“Apology accepted.” He offered her his arm.
Anne took it and fell into step beside him. “How is your mother, Mr. Worth?”
“She is quite well. I will tell her you asked after her.”
Mrs. Worth would probably give him a severe tongue-lashing for walking with Anne. Anne and her sisters were not rich enough for her precious son, despite having a baronet as a father.
“I wanted to speak with you privately before I spoke to my mother.” He paused, looking down at her hand on his arm. “Such a small hand for the burdens you carry.”
“Burdens?” Anne desperately needed him to get to the point. She had the beginning of a headache brought on by his cologne.
“You've taken care of your sisters for years, all on your own. Such a strength of character.” He stroked his hand over hers, caressing her skin.
Anne snatched her hand away and put some distance between them. She suddenly didn't like that she was in these woods alone with Cecil Worth. She glanced around, hoping that perhaps someone else would also be walking in the woods this afternoon. But they were quite alone. Too alone. A frisson of fear coursed down her spine.
A twitter sounded in the trees around her. Was it the old lady? Please let it be the old lady. Anyone to keep her from being alone with the creepy vicar.
Mr. Worth shot her a pitying look that caused her temper to heat. “Have you heard from your brother?”
“My brother? No. I suppose he is still in London.”
“Being so connected to a baronet, I can't imagine why you would abandon the position it offers you and your sisters. I imagine he worries about you all. Three young women quite unprotected.”
John, worry about them? As if that would happen. Anger bubbled up and out of Anne's mouth before she could stop it. “Thank you for your concern, but this is none of your business.”
“I only meant that it would be better for you if you had stayed with your brother.”
“You've no idea what you're talking about.” Anne started down the path toward the cottage.
“And to settle for being the companion of an elderly lady.” Cecil Worth's voice echoed through the empty woods.
Anne turned and glared at him. “Lady Danford has been very generous. I feel privileged to be of assistance to her.”
“Still, your brother . . .” He let the thought trail off.
Enough was enough. “Mr. Worth, my half brother's title doesn't put food on the table or provide heat for winter, and, for that matter, neither does he.”
“I can see you still harbor anger toward him. As the vicar, I must urge you to forgive. He is your brother. Perhaps you may yet reconcile.”
“I harbor no hope of our brother seeking reconciliation.” It would be a cold day before she let John enter their lives again. She glared at Mr. Worth and noted the odd expression on his face. He looked like a fish. She stepped farther away from him as he beamed at her, his gray eyes half-lidded and a crooked smile on his over-full lips.
She fought the urge to grimace. “I beg you to not discuss the matter further. Thank you for accompanying me. It looks to rain soon. I'd best hurry home. Good day, sir.”
“But Miss Townsend—”
She ignored his cry and kept moving. Presumptuous man. How dare he cast judgment upon her and her sisters? They had no say in the decision. Leaning against a tree, she closed her eyes and still she could see his cloying, besotted face. “Fairy wishes indeed. Absurd.”
Anne entered the cottage from the back. She hung up her pelisse and removed her bonnet. If, by some bizarre chance, she had been granted the wish she hadn't spoken, she needed to find a way to undo it before something even more horrid and humiliating happened. Lady Danford's grandson and Mr. Worth were quite enough.
“Anne, you will never guess!” Sophia rushed into the kitchen, but stopped short at the sight of her sister. “What's wrong with you? You're as pale as a corpse! An unkempt corpse.”
“You've never seen a corpse, Sophia, unkempt or otherwise. Why do you ask?” She closed her eyes and tried to relax the scowl from her face.
“Your hair is tumbled, you are out of breath, and your expression is twisted more than usual.” Sophia glided farther into the room, looking perfect, as usual.
“Thank you, Sophia, for reminding me.” The comment flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “If you have something to tell me, please do so.”
“We are invited to Lady Danford's for supper and cards. But that isn't the best news. The best news is that Tony's brother is here!”
Anne bustled to the cabinet and placed cups out for tea. Just what she needed—another evening of men fawning over her sister. “Must we go?” She scooped tea into the pot.
“Of course we must go.” Sophia plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs. “I will need a new gown.”
Juliet huffed as she walked into the kitchen. “You had the last two new gowns, Sophia. I think it's Anne's turn.” Seeing Anne laboring alone to set the table for tea, while Sophia sat like a princess, Juliet tsked and plated the cake.
“Anne doesn't need anything new. It's not like she'll attract notice.” Sophia toyed with one of her dark, glossy curls.
Anne paused, the lid of the teapot suspended in her hand, and tossed aloft a prayer for patience. On the best days, Sophia was trying. Having Mr. Matthews in the village would only make her even more intolerable.
“Really, Sophia. You don't need to be cruel.” Juliet plunked the cake on the table and glared at her sister.
“Thank you, Juliet.” Anne poured hot water over the tea leaves and then returned the kettle to the stove. Sophia was working herself up into a fine temper.
“Well, I hope there will be some new people at the party.” Sophia waved her hand dismissively. “I want to consider my options before accepting Tony. Did you see the invitations, Anne?”
“I thought you already had an understanding with Mr. Matthews,” Anne said carefully. Her plans depended on Mr. Matthews coming up to scratch. If he didn't, she was going to have to come up with another way to buy the fuel they needed for winter. That meant borrowing money from Lady Danford. There was no other way.
“Not yet,” Sophia said. “I do wish we could go to London for a Season. Then I could have the chance to marry a titled gentleman.”
“Don't reach beyond your grasp. We have little to offer such a man,” Anne said sharply.
“We? You do not, but I have had no end of offers, even without a fortune. Why wouldn't a titled gentleman want a pure, beautiful bride? Besides, the further I reach, the better I shall be able to take care of my sisters,” Sophia said confidently.
Too confidently, in Anne's opinion. She rolled her eyes. This plan to marry off Sophia was getting more complex as the day went on.
“You have had no end of offers from the local gentry, Sophia,” Juliet snapped. “I thought you liked Tony.”
“I
do
like Tony,” Sophia said. “I just want to make sure he's the right one. Anne, if you would only contact our brother, I'm sure he would invite us to London. I don't know why you hate him so. What has he ever done to you?”
Anne clenched her teeth to keep the bitter truth behind them. Her sisters would never know the extent of their half brother's perfidy, if she had anything to do with it. “We've not heard from him in five years,” she reminded them. She took a seat at the table across from Juliet and poured the tea. “We must go on without him.”
“But we can't be seen by Lady Danford's guests in these old rags,” Sophia whined.
“Since we will be meeting some of them for the first time, they won't know these are our old dresses.” Anne passed a cup of tea to Juliet.
Sophia huffed. “Why must we be so poor? Our father was a baronet!”
“Be thankful that our mother left us a little to live on,” said Anne. That was something John couldn't take from them no matter how he tried.
“Sophia, some things we must accept,” Juliet said, and pushed her old spectacles back on her face. “Besides, no one notices your dress.”
“Well, it isn't fair.” Sophia pushed away her cup. “I think I'll go see if I can make over a dress. I'll take the lace off of your dress, Anne. And the flounce.”
“As you wish.” Anne waited until she heard Sophia's steps on the wooden stairs. “You don't have to defend me, Juliet.”
“She can be so hateful,” Juliet said. “As if her beauty entitles her to act like that.”
“Sophia will save this family if she marries well. She can be a bit overbearing, but she knows her duty.”
Juliet crossed her arms. “I don't have to like it.”
Anne laughed. “Perhaps marriage will soften her up a bit.”
“That's doubtful, isn't it? I don't want her to marry Tony. She's not good enough for him.”
“I see.” Anne laughed at the blush that rose on her sister's cheeks. “I'd wondered if you admired him.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
So that was how it was. Juliet was suffering through her first infatuation. Better that she learn now that Sophia would capture everyone's attention. No matter what.
“Take care, Juliet. He has eyes for Sophia.” Anne patted Juliet's hand.
“It doesn't matter. He sees me as a child, not a grown woman of eighteen,” Juliet complained as she stood to clear the dishes.
“There will be other men like Mr. Matthews. I'm sure you'll have your pick of gentlemen in the coming years. You're every bit as pretty as Sophia, though I doubt she agrees.”
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
 
LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by
 
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
 
Copyright © 2016 by Eileen Richards
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
 
 
Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: July 2016
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3447-8
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-448-5
ISBN-10: 1-60183-448-9

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