Free Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 02] by The Duke Next Door Page B

an air of another time.
    Her wide, heavily lashed eyes had been painted nearly violet in color—which was quite ridiculous and probably some artist’s conceit, for who had purple eyes?—except that it looked entirely right, somehow.
    Deirdre narrowed her eyes, not liking the feeling rising within her. Small of bosom, long of limb, achingly lovely—well, his lordship’s first wife was enough to give Venus herself a nick in her pride!
    “She’s prettier than you.”
    Deirdre let out a breath but didn’t turn around. “Lady Margaret, we really must address your tendency to state the obvious.”
    Meggie came even with Deirdre and gazed expressionlessly up at her mother’s face. “She’s prettier than me, too.”
    Deirdre glanced down at the child with a noise of impatience. “Soap and water does wonders.” Then
something inside her relented. “For now, perhaps—but you resemble her more than you know.”
    “There’s no portrait of me.”
    There wasn’t. It was as if the great line of Marbrook ended with Brookhaven’s marriage to Melinda—as if she had wiped out the entire future of the family. Deirdre shivered, but pasted on a smile for the child. “Well, you’re not done baking yet, are you? Likely when you’re older—”
    “It’s because he doesn’t want to look at me.” Meggie turned stony eyes to meet Deirdre’s gaze. “If he cannot look at me when I’m here, why would he want to see me when I’m gone?”
    Deirdre didn’t bother denying it. She hadn’t been here long enough to know if it was true or not—and she wasn’t in the mood to defend Brookhaven either way. “I’m in the mood for tea,” she said. Turning, she walked a few steps before turning back. “You might as well come, too.”
    Meggie lifted her chin and gazed resolutely at her mother’s otherworldly eyes. “I might … or I might not.”
    Deirdre nearly walked on, but after casting one more look back at the tiny, scruffy figure standing tense and alone in the great gallery, she let out a breath. “I believe I once saved some society articles about your mother … if you want to see them.”
    A quarter of an hour later, they sat side by side in the family parlor, poring over the yellowed clippings from years ago.
    In her teenaged fervor, Deirdre had religiously sifted through it all to find everything she could about the young lord and his doomed lady.
    There were sketches of her as well, for it seemed that
no artist could resist the opportunity to draw Melinda. Even the most meager talent rose to new heights with such a model, so there had been a great number of those to choose from.
    Meggie absorbed it all, laboriously reading every word about the most talked-about young couple of the ton, from the first clipping announcing their engagement to the wedding, and all the Society appearances. Her grubby fingers could not seem to help but trace over every line delineating her mother’s face.
    Melinda didn’t deserve such devotion, but Deirdre was careful not to let such bitter judgment sully the moment for the child.
    After all, Meggie wasn’t so bad when one got to know her. In fact, she reminded Deirdre of herself. She knew just how much a young girl could long to have someone who truly had her best interests at heart.
    She reached to take the book before the next page revealed the scandal sheets. “That’s all there is. I’m afraid I left London for Woolton about then.”
    Meggie’s fingers twitched toward the book, but surprisingly she made no protest. Deirdre reminded herself that little Lady Margaret had taught herself not to ask questions she didn’t want to know the answers to.
    At any rate, there was no time for argument, for Fortescue announced a visitor.

Chapter Thirteen
    “Lord Graham Cavendish, my lady.”
    Before the butler had finished the words, a pair of strong arms swept Deirdre up in a hug.
    “Oof! Graham, put me down or I’ll have you flogged! I have minions and lackeys now and don’t you