Defying The Earl. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ the butler? What exactly is happening here? And don’t give me a bag of moonshine, I want the truth.” Valerian examined his brother’s disheveled attire with a suspicious sweep of the eyes. Jasper appeared somnolent, but none the less for the wear. His assessment returned to the man on the rug. Beaufort looked completely out of sorts. “Should we help him up?”

      “Don’t mind Randolph. He’s nursing the loss of his sweetheart.” Jasper grinned as he glanced to his friend on the floor across the hall. “He went off last night and got drunk as a wheelbarrow, then provoked the wrong group of men at the tavern and wound up with a facer.”

      Val narrowed his eyes as he leaned closer, barely able to discern a mottled discoloration under Randolph’s left eye. “What role did you play in all this?”

      “Must you always assume I’m to make a mull of something? I suggested an evening out to drown his sorrows. I couldn’t allow him to sit in all evening-tide lamenting his unrequited love.”

      “I see.” Valerian prayed for patience. “So yours was a mission of compassion and empathy?”

      Jasper paused long enough to dismiss the superfluous sarcasm. “Randolph has penned letters to a lovely miss in the country for over two years. They’d never met, but he developed strong feelings and intended to advance their relationship until their correspondence stopped without warning. His missives were returned unopened, so he traveled to the lady’s address only to discover she’d left with no further information.” He darted another glance to his friend on the floor, this time his expression a tad sympathetic. “It’s been over a year’s time, but his heart remains broken and I thought to provide him with a diversion to replace his fit of the blue-devils. Depression is a bottomless pit and I’d only good intentions. There’s no need for your picksome attitude. You would do the same.”

      Valerian remembered his pathetic decline after Caroline’s jilt. She’d effectively crushed his heart with the heel of her boot. Despite severe scarring, the weak organ stuttered to life and he’d vowed its sole purpose would be to keep him breathing, nothing more. He’d kept that promise valiantly, letting no one in, nor any emotion out. It would appear Randolph would learn the same lesson. “May I assume he paid the liquor tab?”

      “Randolph has deep pockets, but that isn’t the half of it. He’s invited us to make use of his town house while we’re in London. It solves all our problems, doesn’t it? I doubt you can disapprove now.”

      “I wouldn’t be so cock-sure as of yet and it solves one of our problems, not nearly all of them.” Valerian advanced further into the home, stepping past Randolph, who appeared content on the floor. He entered the drawing room and made quick work of removing his ill-fitted garments, the cravat and waistcoat abandoned to an empty chaise. Poverty felt like an ever tightening vise around his chest and the undersized waistcoat emphasized the dire conditions. “Aren’t there any servants?”

      “Randolph has them on a rotating schedule. They come and go so as to not disturb the carryings on.” Jasper did not seem the least concerned about his friend awkwardly positioned on the floor in the next room. “What happened to your clothing? It looks like you went swimming in a mud puddle.”

      A vivid image flooded his mind and senses, an unbidden smile tweaked his mouth. “Are you sure we shouldn’t make Beaufort more comfortable?”

      “I asked him before he fell asleep, and no. He likes it down there. Finds it comforting.” Jasper dismissed the question with eloquent sangfroid.

      It was the same quality their deceased father possessed; the ability to take things at face value and not over-think the circumstances and consequences, to live life in the moment unfettered by concern. Valerian was cut from different cloth.

      “So what do you suppose about staying in town?”

      He could hear the underlying plea in Jasper’s voice and it played against his better judgment, but with the most logical rationalization, if Val were to find a way to achieve their matchbreaking business, London was a veritable bed of opportunity. Of course, he would need to keep a close watch on his brother’s waywardness, but that proposed nothing new. It could prove easier if they lived under the same roof.

      “It would make sense, both of us residing here, although you will be under my perspicacious surveillance. We are here to recover from poverty, not sink further into the bowels of destitution.” Valerian schooled his voice with an unmistakable didactic tone and swept a glance around the interior. “Given our lack of financial choices, Beaufort’s generous offer is a boon, although it goes against my integrity to hang on someone’s sleeve.”

      “Consider it a favor between friends.” Jasper poured two healthy portions of brandy and handed a glass forward. “So how did it go with Rigby?”

      “As well as could be expected, I suppose. I’m to start destroying Leonard’s hopes and dreams as early as tomorrow evening.”

      “So you’ve laced your endeavor with dismal intention. I expected that, although you’re the ideal person to execute this plan and the last man to act like a chocolate box over a pretty face. Why not consider the peaceful salvation your service will provide? I’ve heard Fiona is a regular church-bell. There could be no sanity shared when married to a gabster.” Jasper dropped into a nearby wingchair, entirely undisturbed by the implied ramifications of interrupting someone’s emotional goal, no matter his friend lay prone on the floor from unrequited love.

      “I’ve known Leonard Rigby since Eton and I’m not so sure the boot isn’t on the other leg.” Val took a long swallow of brandy in hope it would smooth the wrinkles of his discontent, then glanced at his own boots, caked with mud and water-stained. An image of the unsettled beauty he’d met earlier flittered through his mind with intense clarity and this time he allowed it to remain. Perhaps if he concentrated on her delicate features and lovely sable eyes he could escape the ever present absurdity of this situation. He scoffed at the fleeting proposition. “Nevertheless it matters little. At the end of this venture we’ll be that much richer and on our way, albeit in a small stride, to financial recovery. That is as long as you mend your ways. If cavorting is on your schedule, make damn sure Randolph is doing the spending.” He flicked his eyes to the front window. “Where is One-Eyed Jack? Does Beaufort rent stalls in the nearby mews? I left Arcadia tied to a post near the curb. The last thing I need is to have my horse stolen.” Arcadia was the one constant in his life and a dear friend. A dependable, strong animal who didn’t talk back, spend money, or tread on his emotions.

      “There is a stable around the corner. I’ll bring you afterward. Let me show you abovestairs and you can choose your room. I suspect you’ll need use of a tailor, although Beaufort has an extensive wardrobe. He may not mind if you borrow a coat or two.”

      Valerian eyed the black velvet waistcoat abandoned on the couch with obvious distaste, then dashed his eyes to Randolph’s collapsed form. The vivid embroidery of his puce ensemble merged with the ambitious pattern of the Persian rug. “No, I think not, Jasper. Our tastes do not run parallel.”

       Chapter Five

      Wilhelmina returned home in great hurry. Having directed the hackney to let her off on the corner, she’d walked with vigor to Aunt Kate’s town house. A little out of breath and mentally disassembled, she rushed through the door and directly to her bedchamber, hoping no one would question her disheveled state of dress, although falling into a muddy puddle would supply a needed excuse for her tardiness if anyone inquired. Her thoughts whirled with a flurry of СКАЧАТЬ