A Fallen Woman by Kate Harper Page B

let some narrow minded peer make you feel so
bad about yourself that you hide away in your room. You know what happened
with Dorian Salinger. He does not. You have cried a river of tears over this and you
will not do so again. Not because of Worsley!’
    Determined to put such nonsense out of her
mind , Rachel
rose to her feet and considered the day ahead. Her course of action
was clear. She would not seek Worsley out again, but neither would
she hide from him. He might think she lived a tragic life but she
would show him differently. And tonight, when Thorncroft was once
again buzzing with music and laughter, she would step out of the
shadows with her chin high and let the world – and the
9 th Earl of Worsley – know that she was not some poor figure of
tragedy, but one who had every intention of enjoying whatever
portion of her life had been left to her.
    Rachel rang for her maid, intent on starting the day as she
intended to finish it; full of confidence and determination. She’d had three
years to work on perfecting her composure and she was going to show
everyone that she was ready to start living again.
    Particularly Nash Guthrie, Earl of Worsley, who would leave Thorncroft
with the understanding that his opinion of her mattered not a jot.
She would show him differently if it was the last thing she
did!
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter
Six
     
     
     
    It may have been some comfort to Nash to know that Miss
Sheridan had determined that the best course of action was to avoid
him, for he certainly did not wish to spend any more time in her
company than he must. He was having more than enough difficulty
keeping his every thought from the wretched girl, especially as he
had found himself almost… well, enjoying their exchange the night before. In all of his
dreams of Rachel, he had focused more on her beauty than her
intellect and had forgotten how very quick-witted she was or how
engaging her conversation could be. Her humor had stirred his own
to life and, despite his best intentions – or worst, he supposed
for malice could not ever be considered a virtuous emotion – he had
found himself engaging with her, exchanging quips and sallies, as
if three and a half years of anguish did not lay between
them.
    He did not want to feel any admiration for the woman, any more than he
wished to feel the keen knife of attraction that sliced through him
whenever he was in her presence. The fact that he found her
eminently easy to talk to did not in any way ease the conflicting
emotions that raged within him and he found cause to regret with
fresh intensity the necessity that had brought him to
Thorncroft.
    After breakfast, a meal that Rachel Sheridan did not come
down to (leaving him both relieved and
paradoxically , disappointed), he asked his host if he might look over
the stables and perhaps go for a ride. The prospect of fresh air
and physical action was appealing; perhaps he could ride off his
blue devils.
    ‘ But of course, my lord,’ Lord Sheridan had agreed amiably.
‘I’m not sure if you will find anything to your taste, but feel
free to have one of the grooms saddle up whatever you
fancy.’
    ‘Thank
you, Sir. I appreciate it.’
    ‘Do you
want some company?’ Adam inquired, pouring himself another cup of
coffee. As with most everything else in the Sheridan household,
breakfast was a relaxed affair. Warming dishes were laid out on the
sideboard and, while the coffee and tea were regularly replenished
with hotter versions, there were no hovering footmen or maids to
serve the guests. Nash found such informality to his
taste.
    ‘ I daresay you have a dozen things to do,’ Nash returned
easily. He did not want company, although if he had some, perhaps
his thoughts would not linger where they should not.
    ‘I can’t
think of a thing,’ his friend returned wryly. ‘Nothing says that he
is useless to a man more clearly than a wedding, where we are
frequently redundant. Frankly, it will be a relief to