The Valentine Legacy Read Online Free Page B

her to do but face the music. “I’m all right, Papa. It was a bad fall, but I was just knocked silly for a little while.” She gave her father a pathetic smile.
    â€œYou were knocked silly when you were born,” James said, extending his hand.
    She grasped it and let him pull her out of the hay trough. She brushed herself off for a very long time.
    â€œWere you eavesdropping?” Oliver asked. “As James said?”
    She brushed herself harder.
    â€œCome on, Jessie, of course you had your ear plasteredagainst the ceiling of your father’s office. You probably wanted to hear if I would give away any racing secrets.”
    â€œActually,” Jessie said, rising to look James right in the eye, taking the bait he offered with both hands, “you don’t have a single racing secret to interest me. I know more about racing than you do, James.”
    â€œNow, Jessie, James admitted that he might be short-sighted, but he is young.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about, Papa?”
    â€œDon’t you remember? You said you didn’t want to marry because all men were selfish and pigs and short-sighted.”
    â€œYou heard me admit to being shortsighted, Jessie. You heard everything. Refresh my memory. Did we talk about you and your multitude of failings?”
    Her eyes fell and he stared down at her. Not far down because she was so damned tall, those legs of hers nearly as long as his. “What the devil do you have on your face?”
    Oliver peered closely at his daughter. “Yes, Jessie, what is that stuff all over your cheeks and nose?”
    She slammed her hands against her face and took a step backward, hit the back of her knees against the hay trough, and fell into the straw again, arms flailing.
    James laughed, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “I think, Oliver, that your daughter here is trying to lighten her freckles with some sort of concoction known only to females, which makes me wonder how the devil she learned the recipe.”
    â€œNow, James, Jessie’s a female. Why, I remember just last month she couldn’t ride in a race because—”
    Oliver Warfield’s voice died a quick, clean death. His daughter struggled out of the hay trough and without another word, fled from the stables, leaving behind her a very embarrassed, silent father and an equally silent James Wyndham.
    â€œEr,” Oliver said, “tell me about the Earl and Countess of Chase. Will they ever visit Maryland do you think?”
    James looked distracted, which he was. Jessie’s unexpected fall through the ceiling had amused him and left him feeling the tiniest bit sorry for her. And even when her father tried to come to her aid, he’d only embarrassed her more. And they’d caught her with that goop on her face. It smelled like cucumbers.
    â€œWhat, Oliver? Oh, my English cousins. They’ve got a lot on their plate just now, what with the Duchess birthing her second child, another little boy, just three months ago. They named him Charles James. I’m his godfather. He’s dark-haired like his father but he’s got his mother’s deep blue eyes. Come to think of it, Marcus has deep blue eyes and his mother has dark hair too.”
    â€œDuchess. I’ve always thought that was an odd name.”
    â€œHer husband named her that when she was nine years old and he was all of fourteen. She was very contained even then, you see, very collected and calm in any crisis. She still is, except around Marcus. He glories in being offensive and does it particularly well around her. It drives her mad. It occasionally even drives her voice up an octave, though only rarely.”
    â€œShe writes ditties, didn’t you say? Even though she’s rich and a countess?”
    â€œYes, she’s quite good.”
    â€œThat’s a man’s job.”
    James looked taken aback. “I suppose so. I never really considered that before.