Read To Dream Again for Free Online

feet.
    "I don't believe this," Michael muttered. "The most brilliant inventor I know doesn't have a tool with a hook on the end. What about a buttonhook?"
    Nathaniel raked a hand through his hair. He didn't own a buttonhook. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he snapped his fingers. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
    Nathaniel picked up the hurricane lamp from his desk, strode out of the room, and descended the stairs, coming to a halt before the door on the landing. He reached out to knock but hesitated, his hand poised in midair. Her lock was broken, he remembered. He didn't want the door to swing open and embarrass the poor girl. He knocked on the wall beside the door instead.
    What was her name? Mara, that was it. Mara with the bitterness in her eyes. He waited a moment, but when his knock received no response, he tried again, a bit louder this time.
    He heard a slight sound within and the door opened several inches. A pair of gray eyes peered at him through the opening, eyes that widened at the sight of him.
    "Have you a buttonhook?"
    "I beg your pardon?" she asked in a husky voice. She shook her head as if she didn't understand. The long braid of her dark hair moved slightly against the white of her gown.
    "A buttonhook."
    She continued to stare at him in confusion, and he wondered if she had quite taken in his words.
    He looked down and saw her bare toes curl beneath the hem of her gown, a gown of white flannel. A nightgown. "I'm sorry," he said contritely, returning his gaze to her face. "Were you asleep?"
    "Most people are at this hour." Her voice had lost its soft, husky note and was now sharp and definitely irritated.
    "Is it so very late?" He gave her a smile meant to be charming, but the irritation in her expression did not soften. "I'm afraid I don't often keep track of the time."
    "That does not surprise me, sir."
    "Terribly sorry, but it's rather important that I obtain a buttonhook. We're trying to fix my train, you see, because I have a very important meeting in the morning, and it could be quite awkward if the train doesn't work. And it won't work unless I can find a buttonhook. And I can't very well go out and purchase a buttonhook, since it's dark out and the shops are bound to be closed now, so I was hoping—"
    Her sigh interrupted him. The door began to close, and he was afraid she intended to slam it in his face. But all she did was murmur, "Wait here," before closing the door.
    Several moments later, the door opened again and a buttonhook was thrust toward him. "Here."
    "Thank you," he said, reaching out to take it from her. "I appreciate..." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the hand holding out the buttonhook, and in the light of the lamp he held, he saw the scars that marred her skin. Burns.
    He took the thin bit of steel from her fingers, and she snatched her hand back, hiding it in the folds of her nightgown.
    "Please go."
    "Of course." He lifted his gaze again to her face, a proud face, a face of sharply drawn cheekbones and delicately arched brows, a face of soft skin and hard experience. He looked into her eyes and found them as gray and impenetrable as a London fog. "I will return this to you in the morning."
    The door closed between them, but Nathaniel remained standing there for a long, thoughtful moment, wondering what had happened to her, wondering what had put scars on her hands and a bitter sadness in her eyes.
    Most of all, he wondered what had destroyed the dreams in her heart.
     
     
     

Chapter Three

     
     
    The news came as a complete surprise, and Viscount Leyland did not like surprises. As a boy, he'd hated unwrapping his Christmas presents because the gifts were always a disappointment. As a man, he hated hearing unexpected news because it was usually unfavorable.
    He pushed his breakfast aside and gave his secretary a hard stare across one corner of the huge dining table. "Are you certain?"
    The stare made Charles Barrett shift uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes,