скачать книгу бесплатно
It’s Marriage Or Ruin
Liz Tyner
Miss Emilie Catesby’s choice: a convenient marriage or ruin! Miss Emilie Catesby lives to paint—but when her mother threatens to take her oils away if she doesn’t marry she must either recklessly ruin herself or marry jaded Lord Marcus. When she finds herself compromised into a marriage of convenience with Marcus her decision is made for her! However, she’s surprised to discover that her wifely duties hold much more appeal than her paints…
Miss Emilie Catesby’s choice:
A convenient marriage or ruin!
Miss Emilie Catesby lives to paint, but when her mother threatens to take her oils away if she doesn’t marry, she must either recklessly ruin herself, or marry jaded Lord Marcus. And when she finds herself compromised into a marriage of convenience with Marcus, her decision is made for her! However, she’s now surprised to discover her wifely duties hold much more appeal than her paints…
LIZ TYNER lives with her husband on an Oklahoma acreage she imagines is similar to the ones in the children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. Her lifestyle is a blend of old and new, and is sometimes comparable to the way people lived long ago. Liz is a member of various writing groups and has been writing since childhood. For more about her, visit liztyner.com (http://www.liztyner.com).
Also by Liz Tyner (#ua811061b-3445-5277-8b58-abb84ad26494)
The Notorious Countess
The Runaway Governess
The Wallflower Duchess
Redeeming the Roguish Rake
Saying I Do to the Scoundrel
To Win a Wallflower
English Rogues and Grecian Goddesses miniseries
Safe in the Earl’s Arms
A Captain and a Rogue
Forbidden to the Duke
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
It’s Marriage or Ruin
Liz Tyner
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08944-9
IT’S MARRIAGE OR RUIN
© 2019 Elizabeth Tyner
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#ua811061b-3445-5277-8b58-abb84ad26494)
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
Change of font size and line height
Change of background and font colours
Change of font
Change justification
Text to speech
Dedicated to Tianne and Anna
Contents
Cover (#u8fd78236-5f97-5456-84f2-c11a6dbffedb)
Back Cover Text (#uad55ebfd-ec4e-53d5-9ce0-3b01bc6048c2)
About the Author (#ua4c5ed18-4de9-5f96-8aa6-ea72087ab9d8)
Booklist (#ufaa473b5-a7ef-549c-a88d-809c80c6201d)
Title Page (#ub38104dd-ff6d-5b96-9a18-e46073787df0)
Copyright (#u00874b53-fd70-5430-b719-93ef2aeeb548)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u1a7b1b77-3356-5e59-ad6f-87b1ad7635f9)
Chapter One (#u13fe6233-1053-55fe-bcb3-34caf13a35f6)
Chapter Two (#u99620740-70e4-5246-babc-ff127e6e8bef)
Chapter Three (#u8601e89d-ee66-5c34-8d4a-a9228b4dbae1)
Chapter Four (#ub7ae59c0-39c2-58e5-acec-d1b479ef5e7b)
Chapter Five (#u2984b6cd-be1a-58f4-ac36-4747da46ae72)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ua811061b-3445-5277-8b58-abb84ad26494)
Emilie Catesby could not be dancing at the wrong moment.
She stood in her very best dress, with her very best demeanour, which she quickly changed to her very best frown should any man try to catch her eye.
Finally her mother departed for the ladies’ retiring room and Emilie saw her chance. She’d not been fetching those lemonades for her mother purely out of daughterly devotion.
Lightly clasping the side of her skirt, so she could lift the hem enough to move quickly, Emilie made her way across the ballroom floor, one destination fixed in her mind. The pianoforte music and violins faded into silence; all her concentration was on her task.
Her mother didn’t want anyone to be reminded of Emilie’s fascination with art, but Emilie had to examine the portrait of Lady Avondale.
The likeness rested on an easel, to the opposite side of the musicians, its unveiling the excuse for the soirée.
Then she stopped, gazing at the life-sized replica of the Marchioness, the scent of the dried oils still lingering.
Emilie folded her arms behind her back and examined the brushstrokes. The blending of colours. Lady Avondale’s interlaced fingers were almost hidden by fabric and her aunt had painted them by blending skin tones with the hues of the dress. They gave more the appearance than the reality. As Emilie browsed from the outside of the portrait to the centre, she realised the painting became more detailed. An observer’s attention was being directed by the artist. Emilie was entranced. Such mastery.
The features were well defined. Wrinkles were hinted at on the subject, but were softened. This was not Lady Avondale upon serious scrutiny, but the woman a loved one might observe. A true likeness seen through devotion.
The painting had captured the spirit. It said more than colours on canvas. It spoke of vivacity.
Emilie sighed.
Her aunt was beyond great. She was not only an artist, she was a master of the brush.
‘A good painting.’ A deep baritone voice resonated in her ear, coming from behind her shoulder.
Emilie didn’t turn, still gazing. ‘Magnificent.’
‘You’ve been staring at it and, while it is beautiful, I cannot but realise that you are used to seeing more loveliness in the mirror each morning.’
‘Mmm…’ What nonsense. This was true splendour. Captured for—well, eternity. A legacy. The woman’s visage would remain in the family’s midst for ever. Alive. A child generations in the future would view the image and feel they knew this woman.
‘The hands…’ Emilie said. ‘I had no idea you could paint them that way.’
The voice sounded closer, as he peered over her shoulder. ‘I had not noticed them before.’
‘That is the purpose.’ Emilie unclasped her arms and held her fingers near the frame as if she could cup the face on the canvas. ‘And the skin tones…’
‘If you say so.’
Oh, the picture truly was a work of brilliance. Emilie blinked back tears, both of awe for her aunt’s talent and sadness that she herself had not perfected her own skills. She had wasted so many hours on fripperies when she could have been improving.
‘Might I share a waltz with you?’ the voice asked, so softly she could barely hear.
‘Have we been introduced?’ Emilie gazed at the tints of the painting of the Marchioness, still unable to take her gaze away from it, tears almost blinding her now. It would not do at all for someone to notice her sniffling over a painting. Her mother would be enraged.
‘We have.’ The words were clipped.
‘Of course. I recall now,’ she said. Her mother had insisted she meet so many people that she’d not remembered most of them. ‘Certainly.’
‘A waltz…’
‘That would be enchanting.’
Thankfully, he moved away and she used her glove to wipe the moisture from her face.
