Lord of Deceit (Heiress Games Book 2) by Sara Ramsey Page A

had shocked her at first, but at least she understood why he never tried to kiss her.
    She would likely never find someone to love, or at least not someone who would be able to marry her.
    But then, neither would he.
    But for all that she was grateful for what he had given her, she had never quite forgiven him for what he could not.
    “I do not know if I can do this again,” she said.
    Somerville blinked. “My friend will be a perfect gentleman.”
    “That is what worries me,” Octavia said.
    For some reason she thought of Lord Rafael. Of the kiss he had brushed over her knuckles and the gleam in his eyes. The way he had seemed to notice her as a woman, not just as a decorative companion.
    And she was angry again. Angry at Somerville, who could abandon her without more than a fare-thee-well, because it suited him. Angry at her grandfather, who should have guaranteed that she had as much of a chance as Lucy at inheriting Maidenstone. Angry at Lucy, as she always was — both for what she had done, and for the loneliness caused by losing her.
    And angry at herself, for finding herself back in exactly the same position that she had been in four years before. Ruined, penniless, dependent on men for security….
    And entirely without affection. Irrationally, what angered her the most was that she had turned down Lord Rafael. If she’d known Somerville was going to abandon her, she never would have let Lord Rafael go.
    She stood. Somerville stood when she did, ever the gentleman. “You should leave,” she said. “I need to sleep if I’m to pack in the morning.”
    “Do you want to move to my friend’s house? He might need a few days to prepare….”
    “No,” she said, cutting him off. “Your friend can hang. So can you, for that matter. I’m going to Devonshire.”
    “What is there for you in Devonshire?” he asked, sounding bewildered.
    Nothing . But she didn’t say it. She had saved her pin money and might survive on it for a few months. The jewels he had given her would set her up comfortably for at least a year beyond that — perhaps longer, depending on her needs.
    Her mind was already spinning with all that she would need to do to leave London as quickly as possible. But she spared him another glance. “I shan’t stay here and endure the looks again. Being ruined as a debutante was one thing, but being jilted as a mistress is quite another.”
    “No one will think anything of it,” he said earnestly. “I said it before — you could be the best courtesan in London.”
    She could. She knew it. She knew all the rules. She knew how to converse with men, and how to dress herself, and how to dance even when she would rather be in bed, and how to laugh even when she would rather be reading a novel.
    But Lord Rafael flashed through her mind again. Did she want to flirt, mercilessly, until she found some man who would pay to keep her?
    Was she ready to give her body to whoever bought it?
    Or did she want something else?
    Maybe she was a coward. But that night, all she wanted was to go home. To go home, and to find out why she hadn’t been invited to the Maidenstone party, and to see if there was a way for her to inherit the estate she loved. And maybe, if she could, to find a way to make everything right again.
    “Goodbye, Somerville,” she said. “I wish you very happy with whomever you marry. But it’s time for me to make my own path.”

Chapter Four
    S omerville’s driver wasted no time in dumping her bags and boxes on the steps leading up to Maidenstone Abbey. The butler hadn’t even opened the door before the driver started unloading her possessions.
    “You might wait until I know whether anyone is at home,” Octavia said to him.
    He grunted and tossed another hatbox to the ground.
    Word of her exile had spread like wildfire through Somerville’s staff. During the two days she’d spent packing, they had all made it abundantly clear what they thought of her position. As Somerville’s