'Til Death Do Us Part Read Free Page B

control property in their own names after marriage. But given how difficult it was for a woman to earn a respectable living and actually
acquire
property, the reality was that the act did little for a vast numberof females, many of whom were trapped in dreadful marriages. Divorce was still extremely difficult and expensive to obtain. It often left a woman facing life on the streets.
    She no longer held any romantic illusions about the institution of marriage. It was Nestor who had helped teach her that lesson. And for that, she could not forgive him.
    The clatter of hooves and carriage wheels drew her attention to the scene outside her study window. A hansom was coming up the drive. Her next appointment, no doubt. She really had to get rid of Nestor.
    The cab halted at the front steps of Cranleigh Hall. A man in a long gray coat got out. The high collar of the coat was pulled up around his face, partially concealing his profile. The hat pulled down low over his eyes obscured even more of his features. He carried an elegant walking stick with a curved handle in one leather-gloved hand but he did not use it to make his way up the steps to the front door. He moved with a long, purposeful stride. A very determined man, she thought.
    Anticipation flickered through her. So this was Trent Hastings.
    She did not know what she had been expecting, but this whisper of excitement was certainly not it.
He’s here on business,
she reminded herself.
    She tried to get a better look at him but he was out of sight on the top step now.
    â€œAre you listening to me, Calista?” Nestor asked. Anger and impatience flared in his tone.
    â€œHmm? No, actually, I’m not listening to you. Kindly do me the great favor of leaving. I am very busy today.”
    â€œBloody hell.” Nestor visibly seethed. “I’m not here to apply to become one of your clients. I am here because I cannot live without you.”
    â€œYou appear to be doing very nicely without me. And I have absolutely no desire to become your mistress.”
    â€œI have money now. I will take care of you. We will be lovers.”
    â€œSorry, otherwise employed at the moment. You do not love me. You never loved me. I think the only person you are capable of loving is yourself. Admit it, you are here because you have grown bored with your marriage.”
    â€œYou’re damn right, I’m bored.”
    â€œThat is your problem, not mine. Leave, Nestor. Now.”
    â€œDamn it, you’re too old to play the silly, naïve virgin,” he hissed. “What are you now? Twenty-seven? I’m sure you’ve taken any number of lovers from your list of so-called clients.”
    For the first time, her temper blazed.
    â€œHow dare you?”
    â€œI merely put the obvious into words,” Nestor said. He smirked, pleased to have drawn blood. “There is no need to put a respectable face on your business. An introductions agency, indeed.” He snorted. “I must say I admire your ingenuity. You have proven to be a remarkable businesswoman, Calista. But let’s be clear. You are nothing but the madam of a high-class brothel.”
    Anger and a whisper of panic flashed through her. She was very careful about how she operated her business. She worked only by referral. She made certain that her brother, Andrew, researched all of her potential clients before she accepted them. The salons and teas she hosted were elegant, eminently respectable affairs.
    But she was keenly aware of the dangers of malicious gossip. Nestor was not the first man who had concluded that her agency provided something other than respectable introductions.
    â€œI do not care to listen to your insults.” She reached for the bellpull. “Leave now or I will summon my butler to escort you out.”
    â€œThat doddering old man who met me at the door? He can barely hold a visitor’s hat and gloves. He would faint dead away if you demanded that he try to