The Seduction of Sara Read Free Page B

of her neckline. Swallowing hard, Delphi nervously fingered her own decorous bracelet. Already people had begun to recognize Sara. And while some of Delphi’s friends could be counted on to halt any talk that resulted from such an outrageous costume, others would seek Sara out, determined to discover an interesting tidbit that could be exaggerated into a scandal. The bracelet broke with a snap. “Blast!”
    Sara looked at the broken bracelet, her gaze softening slightly. “Don’t worry about me, Aunt Delphi. I will be fine.”
    â€œNot unless you listen to your brother.”
    The softened expression vanished, and the new, coolly elegant Sara lifted one barely clad shoulder. “Marcus can go to hell.”
    â€œAt least meet with him, Sara. Please. He’s waiting for you in the library.”
    Sara met Delphi’s gaze for a long moment, then she sighed. “Oh, very well; I suppose I had best get this over with. The sooner he realizes he can’t order me about like a servant, the better.” Her back ramrod straight, Sara turned and walked out of the foyer, her silk skirts brushing the floor behind her, draping across the graceful length of her legs.
    For a dismal moment, Delphi wondered if she should accompany her niece. But the days had long passed since she could hug away Sara’s hurts. Delphi closed her eyes. Please, God, grant Marcus the patience of a saint. He’s going to need it.
    Â 
    Sara marched to the library, threw open the door, and halted. She’d expected to see Marcus behind his desk, his face carved in disapproval. Instead she found herself facing three of her five older brothers, their expressions ranging from outright disapproval to genuine concern.
    â€œDamn,” Sara muttered. “If Brand and Devon were here, it would be the whole bloody army.”
    â€œWhat a lovely way to greet your family.” Chase stood by the fire, his broad shoulders resting against the mantel. Hair the color of a raven’s wing and eyes the purest blue, he was the youngest of her five brothers, and the most intemperate. Right now, his face was rigid with anger, his armscrossed over his chest in stiff disapproval. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at anything you say or do. Not after seeing you at Hell’s Door.”
    Marcus looked up from where he sat at his desk, his dark eyes glinting. “Hell’s Door? Not Farley’s newest gaming hell?”
    â€œThat’s the one,” Chase said. “Our dearest sister was there not a fortnight ago.”
    â€œWhere I saw you,” she replied calmly. “If it’s not a fit place for me, then it’s not a fit place for you.”
    Chase flushed. “I’m not female. Nor am I so green that I don’t know an ivory turner at a glance.”
    â€œNo, you just lose your shirt at the faro table and then stumble out the door on your merry way.”
    Chase pushed himself from the mantel, his jaw set. “Now, see here—”
    â€œEasy, children,” Anthony said in a lazy murmur from the settee by the fire.
    Sara caught a glimmer of understanding in his brown eyes. Her half brother was the only one who had, at one time, understood her. With tawny gold hair and brown eyes, he was the very image of their mother. Anthony’s father had died of a fever within a year of his marriage, leaving behind Anthony, who was barely three months old, and a lovely widow, who promptly fell in love with the tempestuous Marquis of Treymount, Sara’s father.
    The marquis had been a passionate man who firmly believed in family. Deeply in love with his wife, he fully welcomed Anthony as the oldest ofhis soon-growing brood and made it a point to never distinguish between any of his children. They accepted one another without question and only Anthony’s name bore evidence that he was not a St. John.
    She nodded to him now. “Anthony.”
    â€œSara. You look