Tarnished, Tempted And Tamed by Mary Brendan

Author:Mary Brendan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Historical
Published: 2015-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Had Fiona but known it, she would have been astonished to learn that her attitude mirrored that of the illustrious Duke of Thornley, a man she’d never met.

Things were not so bad, she impressed on herself in an attempt to combat pangs of melancholy. Gossip could not kill her, but when thrown over Fred Ruff’s horse she might have slid off and cracked open her skull during that mad gallop. Worse still, once she was locked in that mildewed cell, bound and gagged, her captors would doubtless have gone off about their nefarious business. Had they met an abrupt end at the hands of the militia, she, too, would have expired, but not mercifully quickly, but in a drawn-out grisly way! It was the terrifying thought that she might slowly starve with nobody about to hear her muffled cries that had spurred her to immediately attempt to escape. She had much to be thankful for! She had her precious liberty, and her health, and good friends like the Jacksons...

And the memory of Luke Wolfson’s hands on her body, trailing fire in their wake...

With a sigh Fiona cast him from her mind for the hundredth time that day. She had promised herself not to mope over him. She must accept that he was gone for good and probably hadn’t given her, or their escapade, a moment’s pause, since being reunited with his mistress.

Leaning her elbows on the wide gate at the side of the Pig and Whistle, she cupped her chin in her palms and gazed over meadow grass that swayed and gleamed beneath soft breezes and the setting sun. How would her mother take knowing about her eldest daughter’s plight? Thank goodness Maude was in blissful ignorance of it all, she thought. But ever since Cecil Ratcliff set about defrauding the Chapman family Maude had toughened up, so she might cope better than expected when eventually Fiona recounted her tale. And she must; she’d hate it to come to her mother’s notice on the grapevine.

Had her papa still been alive he would be distraught to know how badly things had turned out for his wife and spinster daughter. In his final months he’d mentioned leaving them financially secure, with no need to worry about paying the bills. But Anthony Chapman hadn’t reckoned with his wife’s silly vanity making her prey to a silver-tongued trickster. Her father’s astute business deals, made to provide his widow with a comfortable pension, were now lining another man’s pockets. Or they had been, Fiona reminded herself sourly, till her stepfather emptied his pockets at gaming tables and brothels.

It would have been easy for Fiona to rail at Maude, but she would not allow Cecil Ratcliff the added victory of turning mother and daughter against one another. He had often tried to drive a wedge between them, no doubt so he could mistreat both women under his roof without them seeking mutual support. He hadn’t succeeded; though the parting between Fiona and Maude had been strained, there had been tears and affection on both sides.

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