The Return of Lord Conistone Read Online Free

‘You haven’t really forgotten me, Verena. You
can’t
have…’.
    She jerked herself away from his treacherous hand and crossed her arms over her bosom. Dear God. Less than two years ago this man had walked out of her life, leaving her utterly bereft, and a target for the sneers of the whole county. Now he was here again. Why? She said with passionate defiance, ‘I have succeeded in forgetting you completely, my lord! And as for your sympathy—I can live without it, I do assure you!’
    ‘I was hoping to offer more practical help,’ Lucas Conistone said flatly. He looked up at the dark clouds, and a flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the hard line of his jaw. ‘Perhaps we could go inside and talk?’
    ‘Inside? The
house?’
She looked as though he’d suggested they torch the place. ‘But—my mother is in there! Deb is in there!’
    ‘Deb?’ Lucas repeated the name almost blankly. Then he remembered that Deb was one of her three younger sisters, the foolish blonde one, the one he had least time for. He frowned. ‘Of what account, pray, is she?’
    And Verena’s face, where before it had been anguished, was frozen into first shock, then shuttered coldness. ‘Oh, Lucas,’ she whispered. ‘Enough of this. I never expected to see you again. I never
wanted
to see you again. Please. Just go’.
    So that was it, thought Lucas bleakly. She hated him.Just as well, he reminded himself. Yet she was so beautiful, with her hair tumbling now to her shoulders. And as for that damned gown, what buttons were left were barely managing to contain her luscious breasts; dear God, his blood surged with wanting her…. Grimly he fought down his arousal. ‘Verena,’ he said. ‘Verena, at least tell me why you are on the brink of losing your home’.
    She stared. ‘Are you really going to pretend you don’t know? But of course, our activities are of no account in the kind of circles you move in…’. She gave a brittle laugh, but could not disguise the pain in her eyes. ‘It’s really quite simple, my lord. All our creditors have withdrawn their loans. And as the house is mortgaged, we must sell—everything’.
    ‘Everything?’ he echoed harshly. ‘Have you put
everything
up for sale?’
    She gave a little shrug, then her fingers flew instinctively to secure her gown. ‘All that my family can survive without, yes. Furniture, paintings—the dealers have been through the house room by room’.
    He drew a sharp breath.
Here goes
. ‘You might have other items of value, without realising it,’ he said quickly. ‘Have you thought of that?’
    She looked shaken. ‘Such as?’
    ‘Such as your father’s personal possessions. Some people would pay good money for things you consider almost worthless. His papers, for example’.
    ‘His
papers?’
    He’d taken her by surprise, he could see. Her bewildered eyes—amber-gold eyes, dark-lashed, beautiful—met his again in shock.
    ‘Yes,’ he went on swiftly. ‘All his records of his travels abroad. Letters. Maps, perhaps. And—he kept some kind of diary, didn’t he?’
    ‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she whispered, ‘he was always writing, about
everything
. But who would pay for such trifles?’
    ‘I can think of several people. In London, for example, there are Portuguese exiles from the war, rich men who would dearly love any descriptive mementoes of their homeland’.
You liar, Conistone
, he rebuked himself bitterly.
You deceiver.
    She jerked her head up, her eyes over-bright. ‘Then I’m sorry, my lord, to have to inform you that, firstly, I would never dream of parting with my father’s private letters to me. And, secondly, he always kept his diary with him’.
    That was true, thought Lucas grimly. His
latest
diary. But…. ‘What about his older diaries? Weren’t there any he’d completed, and left here?’
    ‘No! And if he did, I would never,
ever
sell them!’ Her voice trembled, then recovered. ‘Excuse me, my lord, but I find your