Kathryn Smith by A Seductive Offer Page A

their bodies without love as men were.
     
    “I have something for you.”
    Sprawled on her stomach on her bed, Rachel looked up from her reading. She hadn’t heard her mother come in. “What is it?” she asked with a grin as she set the book aside. Her mother’s surprises never disappointed.
    Stepping into the bedroom, Marion Westhaver pulled several swatches of fabric from behind her back. She smiled proudly.
    “What’s that?” Rachel didn’t see how several scraps of cloth—no matter how pretty they were—could possibly be thought of as a good surprise.
    “Fabric, obviously,” her mother replied teasingly. “These are just samples. The rest of the bolts are at Mrs. Ford’s.”
    Mrs. Ford owned a dress shop in town. Her husband did quite well in trade and imported all the beautiful fabrics she used in her gowns. Rachel and her mother hadn’t been able to afford to have a gown made by her in years.
    Anticipation and unease uncoiled in Rachel’s stomach. She had no doubt her mother was going to tell her she could have a new gown. The question was, how had she managed to pay for it?
    “What’s going on, Mama?”
    Sighing, her mother plopped down on the bed beside her. “You remember that quilt I made? The patchwork.”
    “Yes.” It had taken her mother a year to make that quilt.
    “Well, Mrs. Ford asked if she could buy it.” Smiling, Marion whispered conspiratorially, “I asked a ridiculous sum for it, Rachel.”
    The idea of her mother asking a “ridiculous sum” for anything was enough to make Rachel laugh. “And she agreed?”
    “She did, even more so when I asked if she’d be willing to pay in trade. She gave me my choice of any three fabrics—at her own price, mind you! And offered to have her girls make the dresses as well. Isn’t that a wonderful bargain? All you have to do is go in town for a fitting.”
    The sinking feeling returned. Rachel had no doubt her mother had been the unwitting receiver of one of Mrs. Ford’s random acts of charity. No quilt was worth that kind of money. Part of Rachel wanted to refuse the gowns, but it wasn’t worth the blow to her mother’s pride.
    “Why am I to get new gowns and not you?”
    Her mother shrugged and looked away. “I’m an old woman, and you’re a young one.”
    “You’re also a pitiful liar.”
    Her mother still didn’t look at her. “Sir Henry already bought me a new gown. Now I want you to have one.”
    Which meant Sir Henry hadn’t offered to buy one for Rachel. It was just one more example of his rotten business sense. How did he expect to get a good price for her if she looked like a ragamuffin?
    Rachel sighed. Her mother was just as eager to see her married, although for less mercenary reasons. “You want todress me up like a debutante and see if I can’t snag myself a husband.”
    Blushing, Marion swatted her with the pieces of fabric. “If you were a dutiful daughter, you’d go along with my plans.”
    Rachel rolled onto her back and into a sitting position. “I thought I was being a dutiful daughter by trying to get you away from your husband.”
    The look her mother shot her was tired. “I was hoping you’d give up on that.”
    Rachel shook her head. “Not a chance.”
    “I was afraid of that.” Her mother sighed. “Will you at least go have the gowns made?”
    “Yes,” Rachel conceded, but only because it would make her mother happy. “Although I don’t know how you think a new gown is going to make any difference as to how the gentlemen around here think of me.”
    Marion smiled knowingly. “Change the way a man sees you, and you change the way he feels about you. Besides, I heard you already captured the interest of one young man.”
    Rachel froze. “And who might that be?”
    “Who do you think? Other than Lady Westwood’s granddaughter, you were the only girl he danced with.”
    It didn’t take long for the rumors to start.
    “Mama, Lord Braven danced with Lady Westwood’s granddaughter because