Free In My Wildest Dreams by Christina Dodd Page B

fortune hunter, she would have seized on his attentions as an opportunity not to be missed. Shewould have been interested when he offered her a house in Paris and an annual income. But even when he’d reproved her for leaving him on the dance floor, she had given her apology only grudgingly. The girl was genuine. The situation couldn’t be any worse.
    Lady Philberta seated herself in another wooden chair, grimaced, and stood again. “Then you can’t just ruin the girl.”
    â€œI will stop short of any serious seduction. I’ve already arranged for her tickets back to Paris and the payment at the end of our little affair. She will be grateful.”
    â€œWhy is she so interested in Ellery?”
    â€œShe fancies herself in love with him.”
    â€œYou can’t believe that.”
    â€œMoreover, I believe this infatuation is of long standing—although I’m sure at some point she has heard it’s just as easy to marry a rich man as a poor man.”
    Lady Philberta clutched her throat. “Marriage? She can’t truly expect marriage!”
    â€œAnything is possible to a dewy young thing like Miss Milford.”
    Leaning down, Lady Philberta pressed her hand onto the hard seat of the chair against the wall. “Ellery should have been thrashed when he was young.”
    â€œIt’s a little late to come to that realization.” Although Throckmorton couldn’t have agreed more. “To end this situation will require an act of—”
    â€œOf sacrifice. On your part.”
    â€œSo I fear. If we could think of anyone else to take the role . . .” He noted how easily his mother moved to sacrifice him. She had come to expect that he would rescue Ellery, her, the Throckmorton honor, and anything else that needed rescuing. Restlessly, he moved back tothe window that looked out over the gardens. Yet the gardens were unlit, and all he could see was his own dim reflection in the darkened glass.
    She settled into the chair behind his desk and leaned back experimentally. “Garrick, this is the only comfortable seat in this room!”
    â€œDiscomfort encourages productivity,” he answered.
    â€œYou are a most unsociable man.”
    â€œNot unsociable, Mother—proficient. Which is why I’m too blasted old for this kind of nonsense.” Muttering to himself, he said, “Seduction of a young girl.”
    â€œToo old? When were you young enough? By the time you were twelve, you had abandoned all spontaneity and made your plodding way through life.”
    â€œYou forget about India.”
    â€œYou never told me about India.”
    He flicked a glance at her. She was an indomitable woman, absolutely trustworthy, intelligent and astute. But she was his mother. She loved him; he knew that just as surely as he knew she would not enjoy a recitation of the trials he’d undergone in India. “There was war,” he said curtly. “There was treachery. I killed when I had to. Is that enough?”
    Her voice softened. “I suspected as much. You came back . . . changed. But we’re not talking about violence here. We’re talking about paying suit to a female for the good of the family.”
    He remembered Miss Milford’s glowing face. He knew how rare that kind of joy was in this world; he mourned the crushing of that happiness, that innocence. “How indifferent you sound.”
    â€œI am sorry if Miss Milford gets hurt, but think on it, Garrick. We’ve another rebellion threatening inIndia—will the Indians ever realize they are defeated and surrender?—and as always, the Russians do their best to encourage any conflict.” Lady Philberta swallowed a good mouthful of ratafia. “Jealous bastards. They already own an empire. Why do they want ours?”
    â€œBecause ours is so very, very wealthy.”
    â€œDon’t be vulgar, dear.”
    He corrected her. “Practical,