Teresa Medeiros - [FairyTale 02] (34 page)

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Authors: The Bride,the Beast

BOOK: Teresa Medeiros - [FairyTale 02]

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“Having no roof over my head
and
a dead brother isn’t going to make me feel one whit better,” Laura said grimly, shoving him back down.

“We could murder him,” Lottie suggested cheerfully. A precocious reader of Gothic novels, she’d been dying to murder someone ever since she’d finished Mrs. Radcliffe’s
The Mysteries of Udolpho.

Laura snorted. “Given the unfeeling way he ignored his mother’s letters for all these years, it would probably take a silver bullet or a stake through the heart.”

“I don’t understand,” George said. “How can he toss us out on our arses”—catching Laura’s warning glare, he cleared his throat—”on our
ears
when Lady Eleanor promised us that Arden Manor would always be our home?”

Laura moved to the window and drew back one of the lace curtains, avoiding her brother’s shrewd gaze. “I never told you this before because I didn’t want either of you to worry, but Lady Eleanor’s promise possessed certain…
stipulations.”

George and Lottie exchanged an apprehensive glance before saying in unison, “Such as?”

Laura faced them, the truth coming out in a rush. “To inherit Arden Manor, I must marry before I reach my twenty-first birthday.”

Lottie gasped while George groaned and buried his face in his hands

“You needn’t look so appalled,” Laura said with a sniff. “It’s rather insulting.”

“But you’ve already turned down a dozen proposals from every unmarried man in the village,” George pointed out. “You knew Lady Eleanor didn’t approve of your being so persnickety. That’s probably why she tried to force your hand.”

“Tooley Grantham’s given to gluttony,” Lottie said, ticking off Laura’s reservations about her potential suitors on her pudgy little fingers. “Wesley Trumble’s too hairy. Huey Kleef slurps when he eats. And Tom Dillmore always has little creases of dirt in the folds of his neck and behind his ears.”

Laura shuddered. “I suppose you want me to spend the rest of my life with some hulking bear of a man with no table manners and an abhorrence of bathing.”

“It might be better than spending the rest of your life waiting for a man who doesn’t exist,” George said darkly.

“But you know I’ve always dreamed of marrying a man who could carry on Papa’s work in the parish. Most of the men in the village can’t even read. Nor do they care to learn.”

Lottie twined one long golden curl around her
finger. “It’s a pity I’m not the older sister. ‘Twould be a great sacrifice, of course, but I’d be perfectly willing to marry for money instead of love. Then I could take care of you and George forever. And I wouldn’t have any trouble catching a rich husband. I’m going to be quite the Incomparable Beauty, you know. Everyone says so.”

“You’re already an Incomparable Bore,” George muttered. He turned his accusing gaze on Laura. “You might have mentioned needing a husband sooner, you know. While there was still time to find you one who meets your exacting standards.”

Laura plopped down on a creaky ottoman and rested her chin in her hand. “How was I to know that anyone but us would even want this run-down old place? I suppose I thought we could simply go on living here as long as we liked, with no one ever the wiser.”

Unshed tears stung her eyes. The sunlight pouring through the east windows only served to underscore the genteel shabbiness of the drawing room. The petit-point roses embroidered on the settee cushions had long ago faded to a watery pink. An unsightly mildew stain marred the plaster frieze over the door, while a moldy stack of leather-bound books was being used to prop up one of the broken legs of the rosewood pianoforte. Arden Manor might be a humble country house that reflected only a shadow of its former glory, but to them it was home.

The only home any of them had known since they’d lost their parents over seven years ago.

Slowly becoming aware that her brother’s and sister’s dejected faces mirrored her own, Laura rose, forcing a smile. “There’s no need for such long faces. We’ve an entire month before this Lord Devil arrives.”

“But we’ve only a little over three weeks before your birthday,” George reminded her.

Laura nodded. “I realize the situation seems hopeless, but we must always remember what Papa taught us—through prayer and persistence, the good Lord will provide.”

“What should we tell Him to send us?” Lottie asked eagerly, bouncing to her knees.

Laura pondered her answer for a long moment, her pious demeanor at odds with the determined gleam in her eye. “A man.”