A Risk Worth Taking Read Free Page B

destitute they were. What on earth was she going to do if things turned out as she feared? What if they were left with nowhere to live and no income to purchase even food?
    A knock at the door stopped her thoughts. Freddie’s solicitor and the new marquess were here. It would not be long before she would know just how bad things really were.
    “The Marquess of Brentwood and Mr. Harold Woolsey to see you, my lady,” their butler, Ruskins, announced from the doorway.
    “Thank you, Ruskins,” Anne answered, trying desperately to keep her voice steady. “Will you see that tea is served?”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    Anne shifted her gaze to the two men who’d entered the room.
    She’d met Harold Woolsey once before when he’d come to Brentwood Manor on business. He hadn’t changed since she’d first seen him. He was still…average. Average in height, as well as in looks and in physical build. Average in coloring and dress, and almost nondescript in the way he blended into his surroundings. The total antithesis of the man standing next to him.
    The new Marquess of Brentwood was tall and broad shouldered, almost as large as Freddie had been. And he was as dark. His shadowed features, so prevalent in the Carmichael ancestry, left no doubt as to his parentage.
    She looked into his face, a face she found unusually handsome—handsome in the same way Freddie had been, yet different. Those same distinguishing features that had endeared Freddie to Anne hardened the new marquess’s looks. The sight of him caused her a hint of trepidation.
    “Lady Anne,” Harold Woolsey said, making his way into the room. “I would first like to express my sympathy to you and your sister.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Woolsey.”
    “I would like to present the Marquess of Brentwood.”
    The marquess closed the space between them. With flawless elegance, he bowed formally, then lifted Anne’s hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.
    “My lord,” she said, resisting the urge to pull her hand from his grasp.
    “Lady Anne, I cannot tell you how distressed I was to learn of your brother’s death. You have my heartfelt sympathy.”
    “Thank you, my lord.” Anne stepped back from him. She experienced an innate desire to put an adequate amount of distance between them.
    The new marquess straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back, which made him appear even taller, even larger. “I am deeply honored to bear the title bestowed upon me, but I would gladly give it up if I could change the circumstances that brought about my good fortune. Please believe me when I say I regret your brother’s untimely death more than I can say.”
    Anne heard the sincerity in his voice and reprimanded herself for the unkind thoughts she’d had earlier.
    “Thank you, my lord.” Anne held his gaze for a moment, then turned away from him to where Becca stood before the sofa. “May I present my sister, Lady Rebecca Carmichael.”
    Brentwood executed a perfect bow when he greeted Rebecca, then took her hand and lightly kissed her fingers. When he lifted his gaze to her face, he flashed her a most startling smile.
    The manner in which Rebecca received Brentwood’s greeting would have made Lady Agnes proud. Anne was terrified. She wasn’t sure when Rebecca had grown up on her. She suddenly realized what a threat Brentwood posed and didn’t know how she could protect Rebecca from being taken in by a man’s handsome face and easy charm.
    Anne struggled to regain her composure. “Won’t you please sit down,” she said to both Mr. Woolsey and Lord Brentwood, indicating two chairs opposite the sofa.
    Anne took a seat on the sofa and Rebecca sat beside her. Anne poured tea when it arrived and served it with the small cakes Cook provided. When she finished, she took a sip of her tea, then set the cup and saucer back on the table.
    “If it would not be too unseemly, I would appreciate it if we might dispense with any pleasantries and proceed