Ravishing the Heiress Read Free Page B

cold, listening to the congregation of rats in the walls.
    It was a step above outright dilapidation, but only a very small step.
    Isabelle’s family was thoroughly respectable. The Pelhams, like the Fitzhughs, were related to several noble lineages and in general considered just the sort of solid, upstanding, God-fearing country gentry that did the squirearchy proud. But neither the Fitzhughs nor the Pelhams were wealthy; what funds they could scrape together would not keep Henley Park’s roof from leaking, or her foundation from rotting.
    But if it were only the house, they might still havesomehow managed with various economies. Unfortunately, Fitz also inherited eighty thousand pounds in debt. And from that, there was no escape.
    Were he ten years younger, he could bury his head in the sand and let Colonel Clements worry about his problems. But he was only two years short of majority, a man nearly grown. He could not run away from his troubles, which assuredly would only worsen during any period of inattention.
    The only viable solution was the sale of his person, to exchange his cursed title for an heiress with a fortune large enough to pay his debts and repair his house.
    But to do that, he would have to give up Isabelle.
    “Please, let’s not speak of it,” he said, his teeth clenched.
    He didn’t want much in life. The path he’d delineated for himself had been simple and straightforward: officer training at Sandhurst, a commission to follow, and when he’d received his first promotion, Isabelle’s hand in marriage. She was not only beautiful, but intelligent, hardy, and adventurous. They would have been deliriously happy together.
    Tears rolled down her face. “But whether we speak of it or not, it’s going to happen, isn’t it?”
    She raised her shotgun and blasted the last remaining clay pigeon to pieces. His heart was similarly shattered.
    “No matter what happens…”
    He could not continue. He was no longer in a position to declare his love for her. Whatever he said would only make things worse.
    “Don’t marry her,” she implored, her voice hoarse, her eyes fervent. “Forget Henley Park. Let’s run away to-gether.”
    If only they could. “Neither of us is of age. Our marriage wouldn’t be valid without the consent of your father and my guardian. I don’t know about your father, but Colonel Clements is dead set on my doing my duty. He’d rather see you ruined than allow our marriage to stand.”
    Overhead thunder rolled. “Isabelle, Lord Fitzhugh,” cried her mother’s voice from inside the house, “better come back. It’s going to rain soon!”
    Neither of them moved.
    Drops of rain fell on his head, each as heavy as a pebble.
    Isabelle gazed at him. “Do you remember the first time you came to visit?”
    “Of course.”
    He’d been sixteen, she fifteen. It had been at the end of Michaelmas Half. And he’d arrived with Pelham, Hastings, and two other mates from Eton. She’d sprinted down the stairs to hug Pelham. Fitz had met her before, when she’d come to see Pelham at Eton. But on that day, suddenly, she was no longer the little girl she’d been, but a lovely young lady, full of life and verve. The afternoon sun, slanting into the hall, had lit her like a flame. And when she’d turned around and said, “Ah, Mr. Fitzhugh, I remember you,” he was already in love.
    “Do you remember the fight scene from
Romeo and Juliet
?” she asked softly.
    He nodded. Would that time flowed backward, so he could leave the present behind and head toward those older, more joyous days instead.
    “I remember everything so clearly: Gerry was Tybalt and you Mercutio. You had one of my father’s walking sticks in one hand and a tea sandwich in the other. You took a bite of the sandwich, and sneered, ‘Tybalt, yourat-catcher, will you walk?’” She smiled through her tears. “Then you laughed. My heart caught and I knew then and there that I wanted to spend my life with you.”
    His face