The Winter Bride (A Chance Sisters Romance) Read Free

Chancealotto.”
    “I heard he was Venetian,” Freddy said.
    Max threw up his hands. “You see? Venetian. The whole of the
ton
knows it.”
    Freddy shrugged. “Nothing people love more than a hushed-up scandal.”
    “But it
wasn’t
a hushed-up scandal,” Max said, exasperated. “It wasn’t
any
kind of scandal at all! Her mother
never
ran off with an Austrian nobleman
or
gave birth to another daughter who grew up to marry any blasted Venetian marchese—she died! It’s all a ridiculous tale my aunt invented.”
    There was a long silence. Freddy sipped his wine. Max stared into the fire, brooding, no doubt on his father-in-law, the late and imaginary marchese di Chancealotto. Must be hard for an honorable fellow like Max, having to accept—at least in public—imaginary in-laws. And he was getting married in the morning. That was a worse fate than having to listen to a few horror stories.
    “All right, I’ll attend the literary society,” Freddy said in a soothing tone. “But I warn you, I’m not going to read any of those dratted books.”
    “No, that’s all right, it’s not the kind of literary society where people read—they have the stories read to them. So I’d be grateful if you’d just keep an eye on Aunt Bea.” He glanced at Freddy. “And stop her if she starts telling any more outrageous tales.”
    Freddy choked on his wine again. “
Me?
You think
I
could stop her from spreading outrageous stories? You couldn’t, so what makes you think I could? She still treats me like a schoolboy!”
    “I know, but I’d feel better if you were there, at least. And you could always
try
to stop her.”
    Yes, and Freddy could always
try
to fly. But he didn’t say so. Max was his oldest and best friend. Max was also the reason Freddy was now independently wealthy. If it hadn’t been for Max and his trading company, Freddy would still be eking out a living on the inheritance he’d received from his aunt—or worse, dependent on his father—and that didn’t bear thinking about.
    Max had never really asked him for anything.
    Freddy drained his glass, his sixth for the night, and in a moment of vainglory said, “Very well, I’ll
try
.
And
I’ll attend the blasted literary society
and
keep an eye on the girls for you and Abby,
and
I’ll look out for Flynn, if he ever arrives.” Flynn was the other reason Freddy was now a rich man. He probably owed Flynn a few favors too.
    “Good man,” Max said. “I’m probably worrying about nothing. I’m sure you’ll have a delightful time with Aunt Bea and the girls. There’s no one I’d rather trust them to.”
    “You’re the only person in the world who’d trust me with a bunch of unmarried girls.”
    “I know you better than most people. Now, don’t look so glum. Abby and I will only be gone for a month or so, and they’ll be no trouble, I’m sure.”
     • • • 
    China, eight months earlier
    S he breasted the hill and stopped, catching her breath at the sight of the line of brilliant blue that shimmered along the horizon. The sea. She took a deep breath, breathing in the clean, fresh salt tang of it, the taste of freedom. . . .
    Then her heart started to thump as she saw in a dip between the hills three slender vertical lines silhouetted against the blue. Tall masts. Which meant a European ship.
    Pray it was English.
It should not matter, as long as it took her away from this place where she would always be foreign, unwelcome, no matter that she’d lived all her life here and knew no other place. But she was English, and an English captain would understand and, pray God, an English ship would take her home. To what, she did not know—she had no living relatives that she knew of—but first things first.
    She started to run, then stumbled to a ragged halt. She was hot, filthy, dusty and sweaty from the endless walk. She’d lost track of how many days she’d been walking, hiding from others, sleeping under bushes and foraging for whatever