I Loved a Rogue The Prince Catchers Read Free Page B

suggested we elope to Gretna Green.”
    “How intrepid of him. Did you hear that he has royal blood? Agnes told me this morning. On his father’s side, generations back. Six centuries.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    “But you must. Our stepbrother is only three hundred and fifty-seventh in line from the throne. Isn’t that splendid?” Ravenna’s grin widened.
    Abruptly, the intentional gleam in Arabella’s eyes earlier—the gown, the pearls—all of it—made sense. Arabella still believed in the Gypsy fortune from their childhood: one of the three sisters must wed a prince if they were ever to learn the identities of their real mother and father. Despite her marriage to a duke, Arabella would not give up the hope that someday they would learn the truth. Now that Ravenna had wed, Eleanor was to be the sacrificial lamb upon that altar.
    As there were no princes presently at Combe, she’d felt at ease on that account. But this ?
    “One drop of royal blood or one hundred, Frederick Coyne is not a prince. Bella has become desperate.” Eleanor paused. “Ravenna, does—”
    “Does he intend to return? Yes. Shortly, I think.”
    “Who?” But she knew.
    “Tali, of course. He had a horse to see today in the county, but he told Arabella he would return. His business is spectacularly successful, you know.”
    “I wasn’t going to ask about him.”
    “Oh,” Ravenna said cheerfully. “My mistake. Our new stepmama is heading our way. I think I hear my husband calling.”
    “What? Why—” But it was too late. Ravenna always moved like a wild creature, preternaturally still at times and quick as a hare at others. And she wasn’t overly fond of Agnes; all that kneeling and praying made her start to throw out spots. With a swirl of tumbling locks she darted away, abandoning Eleanor to greet their new mother with a sincere smile and pattering pulse.
    He would return . To apologize for abandoning their family without warning more than eleven years ago? In the smattering of letters he’d sent Papa since then, he had never apologized. Arabella and Ravenna had seen him occasionally over the years, but he had never returned to St. Petroc, neither to the Gypsy camp nor to the vicarage.
    “Eleanor dearest,” the bride said. “Your cheeks are violently red. Are you unwell?”
    Eleanor smiled. Falsely. “How could I be unwell when the occasion is so happy?” He’d been back in their family’s life mere hours and already he was inspiring her to lie again.
    “Dear daughter,” Agnes said. “For today I delight in calling you daughter. I don’t expect you ever to call me mama, but if you should like to, I would be honored.”
    Mama. She hadn’t had a mama since the age of four, and remembered only vaguely the woman who had sent her daughters across an ocean, then disappeared.
    “Thank you.”
    “Eleanor, although this is a difficult subject I feel I must speak of it to you plainly. Today I have learned the reason that you are reluctant to respond to my son’s courtship.”
    Guilt propelled her brows upward. “You have?”
    “I understand that your sisters have not explained matters to you sufficiently, which is only proper of modest young ladies. And they are your juniors, of course, so it could not have been expected of them.” Agnes lowered her voice to an intimate whisper. “Thus it falls to me, with the most sincere and affectionate duty, to fill the gap in your feminine education.”
    Feminine education?
    This could not be good.
    “When we are finished speaking of this, I assure you,” Agnes continued, “you will no longer be afraid of marriage. With the right man—a man of good character and immaculate morals—even the rigorous act imposed upon a woman with the sacred mantle of marriage can be rendered innocuous, even mildly pleasurable, if only a woman knows what to expect.”
    Jaw slack, Eleanor stared. Perhaps her mouth even hung agape.
    “Oh, dear.” Her stepmother’s lips crinkled.