A Christmas Scandal. Jane GoodgerЧитать онлайн книгу.
SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT ABOUT HIM
He kept his eyes on hers, his gaze holding a strange, dark intensity that made a flood of heat nearly consume her. Oh, dear God.
They danced without speaking, without smiling, and a casual observer might think they were a couple who was bored, with life, with each other. But someone who was watching intensely might have seen Maggie’s parted lips, the way her breath was catching oddly in her chest, the way his arms pulled her subtly closer and closer until they were nearly fully embracing.
When the music stopped, Lord Hollings pulled her out of the ballroom and to the empty veranda. He didn’t say a word. Neither did she.
Even when he pressed her against the cold stone of the mansion, even when he brought his mouth against hers, even when he pressed his body to hers, even then, they were silent.
A CHRISTMASSCANDAL
JANE GOODGER
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Chapter 1
New York, 1893
Margaret Pierce sat in the pink parlor, a whimsical room her whimsical mother loved, hoping it would somehow calm her. She rocked back and forth, her hands clutched together, as she prayed fervently for her father.
She heard the front door open, the murmurings of her mother talking to one of their few remaining servants, and listened as her footsteps sounded, tap-tapping, on the marble floor. Her heart beat a slow, sickening beat in her chest.
“There you are, Maggie,” Harriet Pierce said, looking unusually drawn. “It’s done with now.”
Maggie looked at her mother, afraid to ask what had happened to her father, a gentle, wonderful man who was going to prison. She could not bring herself to go to the hearing, unable to bear the weight of all that had happened, unable to look in the eyes of the man who held her father’s fate in his filthy hands.
She was afraid to ask her mother how long her father would be in prison, even though she knew what the answer would be. She’d made sure of that.
“Oh, my dear,” her mother said, rushing over to sit by her daughter, embracing her tightly, and Maggie realized she hadn’t been trying quite hard enough to hide her feelings. “This has been difficult for you, I know. The two of you are so close. I think that is what is so upsetting to him, not being with you on your wedding day. For your children when they are born.”
Maggie pushed her mother gently away, staring at her with the beginnings of terror gripping her. “It’s only a year. He’ll be home with us for the wedding and certainly in time to see his grandchildren.”
Her mother’s eyes welled up and she shook her head. “Whatever gave you that idea? Oh, Maggie, it’s to be five years. Five years was always what we thought. What on earth made you think otherwise?” Her mother straightened her spine. “But we’ll get through it. Your father is a relatively young man. He’ll still be in his early fifties by the time he’s home with us. Not so old.”
“No,” Maggie whispered, feeling as if she might faint, feeling as if the world were tilting crazily around her. “One year. It’s to be one year,” she said, her voice taking on the edge of desperation.
“Oh, darling,” her mother said, trying to pull her into another comforting embrace. “The years will fly by. You’ll see.”
Maggie stood up, agitated beyond bearing. “It’s impossible. He promised.”
Her mother smiled up at her. “Who promised? No one promised any such thing. Certainly not Papa. Oh, he didn’t, did he? I do declare that man would say anything to make you feel better.”
Maggie looked at her mother, her eyes wild, her breathing erratic.
“Maggie, what are you doing?” her mother asked sharply, looking at her wrist.
She looked down to see a row of neat little red crescents on her wrist where she’d been digging her thumbnail into her skin. Distractedly, she pulled down her sleeve, then took a bracing breath. She’d nearly lost control, which would have upset her mother terribly. Sitting down, she grasped her mother’s hand and smiled shakily. “I’m sorry. I had this crazy hope is all. I’m just so worried about Papa. About everything, I suppose.”
Her mother visibly calmed when she saw her daughter’s smile, and Maggie vowed to never let her mother see how terrified, how very distraught she was. Harriet had always been an emotionally fragile person, and Maggie had always tried to keep her life as calm as possible. With all that was happening around them, keeping calm was hopeless, but she did not want to add to her mother’s torment. It was almost as if the devil, having decided to pick out one poor family to have fun with, had picked Maggie’s and was enjoying himself immensely watching them all suffer. For never had a family’s life gone from idyllic to nightmarish in the space that Maggie’s had. Indeed, it was difficult to believe that just three months before she had had everything a young woman of twenty could ask for: friends, loving parents, two protective brothers, a beautiful home, and a brilliant future.
When news of her father’s arrest for embezzlement hit the New York Times, friends disappeared, invitations dried up, servants quit. Once on the fringes of the elite New York Four Hundred, now the Pierces were shunned at best. For the worst of it was that her banker father had embezzled money from the very people they depended upon for the social status they had so enjoyed. One brother, an attorney in one of the most prestigious law firms in New York, was fired and was now working in a tiny firm in Richmond, where no one had heard of Reginald Pierce. Thankfully, her oldest brother was in San Francisco, far removed from the scandal.
After her father’s arrest, creditors immediately began knocking on their door and the state demanded repayment of an impossible sum. Everything was gone, including their fashionable home on Fifth Avenue. They were to be out in three days, leaving behind a lifetime’s accumulation of wealth. Everything would be auctioned.
Arthur Wright was their last hope. How many times had Harriet thanked God for him? Thank God, thank God. Arthur Wright, who bored Maggie to tears, whom she didn’t love, but who loved her. “I suppose it won’t do for Arthur to see me tonight with a red nose and watery eyes,” Maggie said in an attempt at levity.
“Do you think he’s going to ask today? That