The Bargain Bride Read Free Page A

oil replaced the comfortable aroma of the old books and brandy as Littleton sat back against the cushions after Marcel left to fetch refreshments. West hoped his host couldn’t see him take out his handkerchief to rub at a spot of yellow ochre on his thumb.
    Littleton appeared to be waiting for West to begin the conversation, but the viscount’s mission was with Miss Goldwaite, not her grandfather, which left idle chitchat, the weather and such. “A lovely day, sir.”
    â€œI have not been out.”
    A comment on the local scenery was obviously impolite, as was praise for the paintings in the library. The artist could not produce such again. Neither could West compliment the books when Mr. Littleton had not read those latest novels on the shelves. He settled on, “Excellent brandy.”
    â€œHelped yourself, did you?”
    Now West felt like a thief, besides a tongue-tied trespasser. “Marcel directed me. May I pour you a glass?” He got up and refilled his own.
    â€œWhat, in the morning? Some of us have better things to do than addle our insides and benumb our brains.”
    â€œUh, quite.”
    â€œAnd some of us do not need courage from a bottle.”
    West pushed aside his glass untouched. He resumed his seat, noting that Littleton’s head followed his movements. The awkward silence fell again, as thick as the smell of paint. For all his thirty-two years and experience as an officer, West felt as if he’d been called before the headmaster in school, waiting to find out which of his many infractions had been discovered this time. There was no doubt he was already judged guilty.
    He would not be accused of ill manners. “Your home is lovely, sir. And I appreciate your kindness in seeing me so unexpectedly and interrupting your, ah, work.”
    â€œIt is love, of course.”
    For the painting? West prayed they were not discussing Marcel. “I can tell you are devoted to your art.”
    Littleton waved his hand around, narrowly missing the decanter West had unknowingly moved. “I paint for love, yes, but for the money also now.”
    People paid for the monstrosities in the hall? West made a noncommittal sound of assent.
    Littleton cleared his throat. “I am speaking of my granddaughter. I love her.”
    â€œI, ah, see.” West was as in the dark as the old man.
    â€œI care only for her happiness.”
    Ah, he was being lectured, or warned. “Quite. I am sure we all wish Miss Goldwaite the best life has to offer.”
    â€œSome of us more than others. Some of us even consider what it is that would make her happy. I don’t suppose my son-in-law is hiding in the drapery?” Littleton peered into the corners of the room. “Marcel did not mention Greedy Gaspar.”
    â€œNo, Mr., ah, Sir Gaspar was still asleep at the inn when I rode out this morning. He made a late night of it last evening.”
    â€œMost likely with the help of the barmaid.”
    Actually it was the innkeeper’s wife, but West chose not to report on his prospective father-in-law. Goldwaite’s affairs were his own business, the same as Mr. Littleton’s . . . and Marcel’s. “He will be arriving later.”
    â€œHmm. Best that way, I suppose.You and Penny can get the thing settled between you without his interference.”
    â€œThat was what I thought.”
    Littleton leaned forward to stare at West, making him wonder just how much the artist could see. Finally the old man nodded and said, “So you are not as foolish as your father.”
    â€œI hope not.”
    A slight smile flitted across Littleton’s face, replaced by a fierce scowl that would have matched Marcel’s war paint. “If you hurt her, you’ll be sorry.”
    â€œThat is not my intent, sir, I swear.”
    â€œIt better not be. I might not be handy with my sword anymore, but Marcel can use a carving knife to good purpose, and his fists when