No Choice but Surrender Read Free Page A

with, no matter how urgent her need for money. One was a gold and amethyst comb that she'd found with the tiny portrait. It was a bittersweet reminder of her mother's kind eyes, the same shade of blue-violet as her own. And the other precious possession was the miniature.
    Brienne sat very still on the bench. Her mind was flooded with memories. They left a bad taste in her mouth and gave her a deep, lonely ache inside her belly. But she'd enjoyed one bit of good fortune in the recent past: Her father had been blessedly absent from Osterley in the month she'd been there. And from what she could gather from the servants' gossip, he was not expected back anytime soon.
    So absorbed was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice a fashionable coach-and-four enter the grounds until it was almost in front of the house. Before she could rise from her bench, the familiar figure of her father's solicitor sprang from the vehicle and made his way toward her. His gait was impatient.
    "Good day," Brienne said from her position on the bench. Warily, she wondered what had inspired this unwelcome visit.
    "Good day, Lady Brienne. No, please do not rise. I won't be staying long." The dour man stood over her and continued in an arrogant manner. "I have come to inform you that I am no longer your father's solicitor. He hasn't the funds for my services." He looked as if he expected a reaction of some son from her, but she disappointed him by not giving him one.
    "Excuse me for my candor," she finally spoke up, "but I don't see the necessity to inform me of that. I have never had any need of your services."
    "There is something else. Your father has been in America for some time now. He has been found to have gambled excessively." The solicitor eyed her; this time he was hoping to provoke a reaction from her. "He has had heavy losses."
    "Yes?" Brienne looked up at him. Her eyes held no apprehension whatsoever.
    "In fact, he has lost everything. He gambled and lost Osterley entirely."
    "I see." She thought about this bit of news for a second or two and then brushed it aside. "I shall inform the servants. Is there anything in particular they need to be told?"
    "Excuse me, Lady Brienne. I don't know if you heard me correctly. I said the earl has lost Osterley. You are in effect homeless."
    "Yes, I heard you correctly the first time. And I'm not surprised. How very like my father—by the mere draw of a card, to lose such a magnificent home, not caring whose livelihood he has ruined."
    "The new master has requested the servants to remain here. In his letter he asked me to inform them that he will choose who is to go once he has arrived."
    "And when do you expect that will be?" She was nonchalant, reasoning that she would be far away from Osterley by that time.
    "It's hard to say, but my guess would be the end of the week at the latest, perhaps even tomorrow, according to the dates he stated in the letter."
    Finally the solicitor got the reaction he'd been waiting for. Gasping out loud, she stared at him in disbelief. "Surely you are jesting! Why was I not given notice?"
    "Letters from the Colonies more often than not arrive with the senders, my lady. This was the best I could do. I myself just received notice of your father's impoverished state." The bony solicitor couldn't hide his look of distaste. "He has relieved me of my services and informed me of his difficulty in returning to England. I fear that the war and his lack of funds for passage have found him in dire straits."
    "Well, at least that is good news," she murmured under her breath.
    The solicitor cleared his throat. "Though I have not yet been paid for my past services for the earl, I nonetheless did find it my duty to drive here and offer you my assistance. If I may make one suggestion, my lady, the place in Bath is still in your father's possession, I believe. And I know he still has a small, modest town house in London. I expect that when he returns to England, he will arrive there. I'm