Read Forever a Lord for Free Online

invested too much into a venture that had left them with nothing. In a desperate effort to erase what had been done, he had then sold his good name of Marquis to the highest female bidder in the aristocracy to save what remained of their lives. It wasn’t as if they had much to begin with.
    Imogene couldn’t help but feel responsible for his endless quest for more money. Though she was now nineteen, countless doctors and quacks had paraded in and out of the Weston household since she was seven because of her. And they were anything but free. Neither was the sludgy, healing tonic she was forced to drink with a pinched nose every afternoon at four.
    She was tired of being a burden to him.
    She was tired of being defined by an illness.
    Imogene turned back to the window. Her brother was probably avoiding his wife again. Not that she blamed him. Lady Mary Elizabeth Weston was a floating frock whose constant flaunting of her own wealth sent Henry into a fury. And that didn’t include the rest of the marriage or the whispers about Mary secretly meeting with Lord Banbury.
    It was a good thing Mama and Papa had both long since passed and weren’t around to see how miserable Henry was. Each of his poor children had died within the first few months of their lives, and Mary hadn’t been with child since. That was about the time Mary had drifted off into the arms of another.
    Life had been anything but kind to her poor brother.
    The gates clanged open, making Imogene straighten beside the window. A black lacquered carriage with the Weston crest emblazoned on its doors, rolled through and rounded the graveled path toward the entrance.
    Shoving her blond braid over her shoulder, she gathered her robe and nightdress and dashed across the room. Flinging open the bedchamber door, she sprinted down the moonlit corridor, rounding corner after corner and bustled down, down, the main stairwell.
    She slid to a halt as the entrance door opened.
    A cold wind swept through, setting the candles flickering within the sconces as Henry strode in and stripped his top hat, scattering blond hair across his forehead. Closing the door, he jerked to a halt, startled green eyes settling on her. “Gene. Why are you still up? Are you not feeling well? Do you need me to call for Dr. Filbert?”
    “No. I’m fine.” Imogene hurried into his arms and tugged him close, squeezing out the cold clinging to his evening coat. The heavy scent of cigars clung to his clothing. “I couldn’t sleep. Where were you? You reek of cigars.”
    “I know. I had one too many.” He patted her head with gloved hands and pulled away. “There was a boxing exhibition over at Bloomsbury. I stayed to the end.”
    “Another boxing exhibition?” She sighed. “I keep telling you, ’tis a waste of respectability and time.”
    “It depends on how you view waste.” He leaned in and said in a low, riled tone, “Did you know that the last boxing champion of England made almost a quarter of a million pounds for himself and his patron, Lord Ransford? A quarter of a million! If I could get my hands on several thousand of my own money, money I wish to God I had, I’d find myself a boxer capable of taking that title, fist the money from the win and divorce Mary on grounds of adultery. With money like that, no scandal could ever touch us. The problem is I’m worth nothing more than my name and she knows it. In my opinion, she and Banbury deserve each other. I only wish she had the decency to keep it quiet. Everyone knows. Even all of the men at the boxing coves. It’s humiliating.”
    That wretched, wretched woman. It was the first time Henry had ever dared speak of divorce. Which meant he was well beyond miserable. To even whisper of divorce in London society was to speak of ruin, not only for him but her. Knowing that made Imogene want to invest in said quarter of a million just so he could live the way he deserved. In peace.
    Imogene paused. A quarter of a million pounds? For a