Free Heiress in Love by Christina Brooke Page B

Cecily’s talent, their cousin Andrew had ordered copies to be printed and bound for all of the cousins.
    Realizing that Luke was a little too old for fairy tales now, Jane had scoured the library for books that might interest a boy his age. They were few and far between. Her own collection of romances didn’t seem suitable, either.
    Then she’d remembered Cecily’s mad creations. If anything could interest a boy like Luke in reading for pleasure, those hilarious episodes would do the trick. Jane hadn’t read the tales for years, but she soon became as enthralled as Luke. Cecily’s gift for storytelling had been evident, even at fifteen.
    Glancing at Luke as she read, she saw his eyelids grow heavy. They fluttered a little as he fought sleep. She read on, lowering her voice a little, until at last, Luke’s eyelids drifted closed. Jane let her words trail away until Luke’s deep breathing told her he slept.
    She marked the place with her green ribbon and returned Cecily’s book to the shelf.
    Bending down to Luke, Jane kissed the delicious, petal-soft roundness of his cheek. His lips curved a little, as if he knew she was there. With a tiny sigh, he snuggled down into the pillow, secure in the instinctive knowledge that he was loved.
    Jane’s heart filled. Her eyes moistened. The ache in her throat seemed to form a hard, jagged lump.
    She would do anything for this child. Anything.
    Even if that meant marrying Constantine Black.
    *   *   *
     
    Constantine needed a drink. Another one. He strode down corridors, through connecting rooms, his breath streaming harshly through his nostrils.
    Bloody rabbit warren of a place! He’d been halfway to his bedchamber when he’d remembered the decanters sitting idle in the library. A pity he hadn’t also recalled that one needed a map and a compass to navigate the old pile.
    Westruthers! Damn them all to hell. So bloody self-righteous, so superior to the rest of the human race—at least in their own estimation. How dare Jane Westruther look down her nose at him?
    Tomorrow, he’d move into the master apartments and damn her sensibilities. The sooner she left Lazenby Hall, the happier he’d be.
    He hissed air through his teeth. More pressing than showing her who was master here was the need to closet himself with all of Frederick’s advisers and see if something might be salvaged from this mess.
    If he had to sell Broadmere … His stride slowed. He struck his fist against his thigh. No. No, his brother should have their father’s property. George had the right. There must be another way.
    One that didn’t involve taking a prudish, opinionated Westruther to wife.
    Oh, he’d given her a good scare, telling her he hadn’t decided whether he’d fall in with her demands. The look on her face would have given him tremendous satisfaction if it hadn’t been so damned insulting to his vanity.
    And here he’d thought no one had that kind of power anymore. His father, his mother, hell, even Frederick himself, had done their worst. But she  … Why should he care what she thought of him? They’d only just met!
    Typical of such a high-and-mighty lady to believe she knew what was best for Luke. Well, Constantine had been appointed the boy’s guardian and it was for him alone to decide that. He’d scarcely be discharging his duty by handing the boy over to Lady Roxdale without thoroughly investigating her first.
    In any case, if Frederick had wished Luke to remain with Lady Roxdale, why not stipulate that in his will? He must have had his reasons for excluding her. And Constantine would find out what they were.
    He’d begin by talking with the boy himself. He’d summon him in the morning, after his ride.
    As he walked the length of the corridor, Constantine heard noises from the other side of the door leading into the gallery. Who could it be at this hour? Although he guessed the time not far past eleven, he’d the impression everyone kept sober hours at the Hall.
    He