Free Secrets of Midnight by Miriam Minger

I'll take good care of her.
Now tell me, is your name as pretty as Linette's?"
    "Estelle Marie?" The little girl looked
thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. "I s'pose,
but I think Marguerite's is the prettiest of all. ' Course,
she's not always as nice as her name. Just the other day she tromped on poor
Luther's tail—"
    "Estelle Easton!"
    "It's true, Marguerite, and you know it! You
pulled my hair too!" Linette chimed in, Corisande certain she'd never seen
Marguerite more chagrined. But in the next instant the pretty fifteen-year-old blushed bright pink to her roots when Donovan smiled at her,
though Corisande could see it didn't reach his eyes, his massive shoulders
rigid as he rose.
    "Sometimes I don't get along very well with my
brother either."
    He didn't say any more, but even if he had it would
have probably been drowned out by the sudden fierce pounding at the front door,
a booming male voice demanding entrance.
    "Oh, Lord, Constable Curtis!" Frances heaved
rather tipsily to her feet and rushed from the kitchen, Linette, Estelle, and
Luther scurrying after her while Marguerite remained planted to the floor. That
is, until she realized that she was the only one left in the kitchen besides
Donovan and Corisande. Her blush deepening, she looked about her distractedly
as if she weren't sure which way to turn.
    "Papa's in the garden, Marguerite. By the
geraniums. Why don't you see how he's doing?"
    "Oh—oh yes, Corie. Of course I will." Smiling
gratefully, Marguerite skipped over the spilt milk and fled outside, her rich
auburn curls flying.
    That left Corisande alone, at least for the moment,
with a man whom she was growing to despise more and more. She grabbed a broom
and a dustpan and set to work cleaning up the mess on the floor, her back
turned purposely to Donovan.
    "Would you like some help?"
    "Oh, my, no, I think you've helped enough already.
Charmed them all quite handily, I'd say. Rose Polkinghorne, Frances, my very
impressionable sister Marguerite—"
    "Jealous?"
    She whirled, stunned. But one look at his sarcastic
expression and she turned right back to her task, deeming his ridiculous
comment not even worthy of a reply. Her heart was racing, though, which only
made her madder as she emptied the dustpan into a bucket. She was almost
finished when he spoke again.
    "You missed a shard . . . over there by the
cupboard."
    "I see it, thank you." Corisande scooped up the last bit of broken crockery, then straightened to glare at him, no longer able to contain
herself. "Forgive me if I sound overly rude, but don't you have somewhere
else you can go? You've obviously accomplished your aims—met my family, spread
the word about our impending wedding, even ordered me a gown—"
    " Which leaves the license and a
ring. "
    "A ring too?" Corisande's tone was mocking as
she plunked the broom and dustpan beside the bucket. "Goodness, my lord,
you're going to a lot of trouble for a vicar's daughter. You should be glad you
didn't meet my friend Lindsay instead, and convinced her to play your wife. You
might have felt the need to spend even more coin for your sham wedding."
    "Lindsay?"
    "Yes, Lindsay Somerset, gone to London for the
Season only three days ago. Her father is Sir Randolph, a baronet—"
    "I wouldn't have wasted my time with her. No
marriageable young woman of the gentry would agree to such a plan, not if she
wanted her reputation left intact for a true marriage."
    Donovan knew at once he'd gone too far at the stricken
look on Corisande's face, but the thing had been said. He couldn't take it
back. Nor did he have a chance to soften the blow as Frances bustled into the
kitchen, a plump arm hugging Estelle on one side and Linette on the other while
Luther barked and spun in circles around their feet.
    "Ais, what a day this has been! I told the
constable an' the good doctor that all was well, Corie, but they're waiten at
the front door, hoping for a word with Lord Donovan. They want to wish him well, an' you too.