Read The Truth About Lord Stoneville for Free Online Page A

hundred feet off.
    She was probably telling the truth. Indeed, it would be pointless for her to lie, since he could always hold her here while he confirmed her story. But he didn’t intend to do that. Her tale of woe made her even more perfect for his plan.
    Still, before he proposed his unorthodox arrangement, he should find out exactly what he might be getting into. “How old are you?”
    She blinked. “I’m twenty-six. What has that got to do with anything?”
    So, she was an innocent but not a child, thank God. Gran would be suspicious if he brought home some chit fresh from the schoolroom.
    “And your father owns a ship company,” he said as he donned his waistcoat. A rich man had connections. That could be a problem.
    “Owned. Yes.” She thrust out her chin. “His name is Adam Butterfield. Ask anyone in the shipping industry about him—they all knew him.”
    “But do they know you is the question, my dear.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “So far you’ve given me no evidence that you’re his daughter.” He buttoned up his waistcoat. “Have you letters of introduction to smooth your way here?”
    She thrust out her chin with a mutinous air. “I didn’t expect to need such a thing. I expected to find Nathan at London Maritime.”
    “You can ask at the shipping office,” the stripling put in helpfully. “They’ll tell you what ship we came here on.”
    “They’ll tell me what ship Miss Butterfield and Mister Frederick came on,” Oliver interjected as he slid into his coat. “But unless the captain introduced you to them as such, that isn’t much evidence.”
    “You think we’re lying?” she said, outrage flaring in her face.
    No, but he’d gain nothing by letting her realize it. “I’m merely pointing out that you’ve given me no reason to believe you. I imagine that America is little different from England in certain respects: ship company owners have a station to uphold. And since I assume that your father was wealthy—”
    “Oh, yes,” Freddy put in. “Uncle Adam had pots and pots of money.”
    “Yet his daughter could not send someone to find her fiancé, like any respectable female would do?”
    “I was worried about him!” she cried. “And . . . well, right now Papa’s money is all tied up in the estate, which can’t be settled without Nathan.”
    Ah. Better and better. “So you’re here virtually alone, with no money, despite your claim to have a rich father and a certain station in society.” He fished for more information. “You expect me to believe that the daughter of a wealthy ship company owner—who would be taught to keep quiet, do as she is told, and respect the proprieties—would go sailing across the ocean in search of her fiancé, looking for him in a brothel, attacking the first gentleman who dares to question—”
    “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she snapped. “I told you why I did all that.”
    “Besides,” her companion put in, “Uncle Adam isn’t . . . wasn’t like other rich gentlemen. He started out a soldier in the Marine Corps. He never put on airs. Always said he was born the poor bastard of a servant, and he’d die the rich bastard of a servant, and that was better than being a rich ass.”
    She groaned. “Freddy, please, you’re not helping.”
    “So you see, sir,” Freddy went on, to Oliver’s vast amusement, “Mop— Maria isn’t like other women. She’s like her father. She doesn’t listen to those who tell her to sit still and keep quiet. Never has.”
    “I noticed,” Oliver said dryly. It was a point in her favor. “And what of her mother? Did she not teach your cousin to behave?”
    “I’ll have you know, sir—” Miss Butterfield began.
    “Oh, she died in childbirth,” young Freddy explained. “And anyway, she was only a shopkeeper’s daughter herself, like Ma, her sister. Uncle Adam took us in after Pa died, so Ma could raise Maria. That’s why I came here with her.” He puffed out his chest.