An Offer from a Gentleman with 2nd Epilogue Read Free

with her. He had owned up to his responsibility to the girl for seven years, and he wasn’t going to stop now.
    Rosamund and Posy took their cues from Araminta and treated Sophie with hostility and disdain, although Posy’s heart clearly wasn’t into torture and cruelty in the way Rosamund’s was. Rosamund liked nothing better than to pinch and twist the skin on the back of Sophie’s hand when Miss Timmons wasn’t looking. Sophie never said anything; she rather doubted that Miss Timmons would have the courage to reprimand Rosamund (who would surely run to Araminta with a false tale), and if anyone noticed that Sophie’shands were perpetually black-and-blue, no one ever said so.
    Posy showed her the occasional kindness, although more often than not she just sighed, and said, “My mummy says I’m not to be nice to you.”
    As for the earl, he never intervened.
    Sophie’s life continued in this vein for four years, until the earl surprised everyone by clutching his hand to his chest while taking tea in the rose garden, letting out one ragged gasp, and falling facefirst to the stone cobbles.
    He never regained consciousness.
    Everyone was quite shocked. The earl was only forty years old. Who could have known that his heart would give out at such a young age? No one was more stunned than Araminta, who had been trying quite desperately since her wedding night to conceive the all-important heir.
    â€œI might be with child!” she hastened to tell the earl’s solicitors. “You can’t give the title over to some distant cousin. I could very well be with child.”
    But she wasn’t with child, and when the earl’s will was read one month later (the solicitors had wanted to be sure to give the countess enough time to know for sure if she was pregnant) Araminta was forced to sit next to the new earl, a rather dissolute young man who was more often drunk than not.
    Most of the earl’s wishes were standard fare. He left bequests to loyal servants. He settled funds on Rosamund, Posy, and even Sophie, ensuring that all three girls would have respectable dowries.
    And then the solicitor reached Araminta’s name.
    To my wife, Araminta Gunningworth, Countess of Penwood, I leave a yearly income of two thousand pounds —
    â€œThat’s all?” Araminta cried out.
    â€” unless she agrees to shelter and care for my ward, Miss Sophia Maria Beckett, until the latter reaches the age of twenty, in which case her yearly income shall be trebled to six thousand pounds.
    â€œI don’t want her,” Araminta whispered.
    â€œYou don’t have to take her,” the solicitor reminded her. “You can—”
    â€œLive on a measly two thousand a year?” she snapped. “I don’t think so.”
    The solicitor, who lived on considerably less than two thousand a year, said nothing.
    The new earl, who’d been drinking steadily throughout the meeting, just shrugged.
    Araminta stood.
    â€œWhat is your decision?” the solicitor asked.
    â€œI’ll take her,” she said in a low voice.
    â€œShall I find the girl and tell her?”
    Araminta shook her head. “I’ll tell her myself.”
    But when Araminta found Sophie, she left out a few important facts . . .

Chapter 1
    This year’s most sought-after invitation must surely be that of the Bridgerton masquerade ball, to be held Monday next. Indeed, one cannot take two steps without being forced to listen to some society mama speculating on who will attend, and perhaps more importantly, who will wear what.
    Neither of the aforementioned topics, however, are nearly as interesting as that of the two unmarried Bridgerton brothers, Benedict and Colin. (Before anyone points out that there is a third unmarried Bridgerton brother, let This Author assure you that she is fully aware of the existence of Gregory Bridgerton. He is, however, fourteen years of age, and therefore not