Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“I’ll kill them.” Falcon leaned against the seat. “But she defended you.”
“She did and it killed me to keep walking but I had to leave or I would be in the headlines for another reason.”
“And you know ignoring the brother will get her back in front of you.”
“Mama said you were more than a pretty face.”
Falcon punched him. “I told you I was but you always wanted me for my body.”
They shared a laugh. Resting his head back, Bryn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I want her but it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving in a few months. I have to get out of this city and this country. I miss the cabin, the open spaces. I’m tired of being a freak people watch with bated breath to see how I will react.” He sighed. “I need to go home.”
Chapter Five
Snow slammed into the window of the sitting room. She’d opted to sit here as that tended to be the warmest room in the house—in case anyone stopped by, the illusion of still being well off wasn’t hard to accomplish when this room was toasty.
Rosamunde wasn’t the only one in her family sitting in this room. Only her father was missing, and she knew it was because his office had the honor of being the other room in the house that remained well heated.
She sat on the lounge by the window, a blanket over her lap as she scribbled in her diary. Her sisters embroidered while her brother glowered at her. The window rattled and she was grateful to be inside and not out there, even if she were the farthest from the heat. Considering how crisp her room was, this was heaven.
“He wouldn’t help me and it’s your fault.”
Inching back on the lounge, she continued writing in her book, barely looking up from the quill point other than to make sure she wasn’t smearing her hand on the ink. Hard not to at times given she wrote with her left hand. Something else her parents were embarrassed about. She also wanted to make sure her siblings weren’t trying to read over her shoulder.
“What are you talking about, Lovell?” Her mother questioned as she too embroidered.
“Rosamunde. He didn’t even speak with me, just walked away like he was better than me.”
He is. She wrote about her dreams of exploring the world—something she wouldn’t be able to do. Then again, depending on where this arranged husband for hers may want to travel, she may actually get to see someplace other than London.
Nope. I’m not marrying him. I will find a way to get out of that.
“Did you not help your brother?”
She could hear her sisters mocking her about getting into trouble once again but she simply couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Rosamunde Evelina, do not ignore me.”
With a stage worthy sigh, she closed her book and lifted her gaze to discover everyone staring at her. “Yes, Mother?”
“Impertinent.” She set her wooden embroidery ring to the left of her leg. “Why are you not helping your brother?”
“Aside from the fact you forbade me to be seen with the man he now wants me to speak with? I don’t see why I should seek him out if you feel the earl is so beneath you.”
Did she feel bad for using his title? Absolutely not.
“Your brother will be the viscount to this family one day, you would do well to remember that.”
Hating the fact she was going to have to leave the warmth of the house, but unwilling to stay trapped inside with them, she got to her feet and swiftly folded up the blanket.
“And that man is already higher up on the societal ladder than Lovell will ever be.” All four of them drew back like she’d punched them physically. “And given your opinion of me is so low, with my weight, how could I even begin to sway a man who could have his pick of any London miss?”
Book firmly in hand, she walked out of the room and went to the front, where she didn’t wait for anyone, not like there was anyone other than herself, to get her coat then stepped out into the miserable weather. She buttoned it up as she stood at the top of the steps.
Not my most brilliant plan.
Tucking her head, she made her way carefully down the street and eventually found herself in front of a bookstore. Desperate to remove herself from the cold, she looked around then pushed inside.
Immediately the heat had her swallowing back a moan. One that contained a bit of relief and some pain as feeling tingled its way back into her limbs.
An older gentleman lifted his head from where he sat at the front counter. “Good day, milady.” He glanced behind her, and she had no doubt he was scouring for her maid.