The Lady Travelers Guide To Larceny With A Dashing Stranger. Victoria Alexander

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the Marquess of Haverstead, had divided his nonentailed assets upon his death, leaving them equally to his three sons. His youngest son—Dante and Roz’s father—had proved surprisingly gifted at all matters financial and, through shrewd investments and sound business endeavors, doubled it. Dante had taken after his father in this respect and at the age of thirty-three had amassed a fortune significantly greater than his father’s. Which was all well and good but there was more to life than the acquisition of funds—an edict his grandfather had lived his life by.

      Dante only vaguely remembered Grandfather as he had passed on when Dante was six years of age but he never forgot the old gentleman explaining the importance of art and beauty, whether they be depicted in painting or marble or by the fine hand of a master craftsman in a pottery urn created thousands of years ago. “Art,” he had once told his grandson, “is man’s very soul made manifest.”

      When the marquess died, his will decreed his grand London house become a private museum, open only to scholars and those with a deep appreciation of art and antiquities and willing to purchase a subscription to help defray costs. He left, as well, a trust to maintain his collections. A curator was hired to catalog the late marquess’s acquisitions, organize and display the house’s contents, and manage membership as well as all the other varied and sundry details an endeavor of this nature required. Through the years there was another director and another—all with various skills in the management of small museums and Montague House took its place among the lesser sights of London.

      Unfortunately, the only one of Lord Haverstead’s numerous offspring who shared his fascination with fine art or the remnants of antiquity was Dante. He spent much of his boyhood at Montague House studying the works of Renaissance masters or paging through ancient volumes in the well-stocked library or trying to decipher the Greek or Latin inscriptions on the ancient coins and other metalwork kept behind glass doors. The influence of Montague House lingered through Dante’s school years and he considered becoming a scholar of art and antiquities until business and finance proved to be a passion every bit as strong and far more challenging.

      “I am not the least bit dull,” he said staunchly.

      Roz and her daughter traded knowing glances.

      “I know that look.” He glared at his sister. “Go on, say what you’re thinking.”

      “We’re not saying that you’ve become dull only because you’ve thrown yourself into Montague House,” Roz began.

      “Although you have taken up residence in the flat on the upper floor,” Harriet said under her breath.

      “It’s most convenient.” He huffed. “Besides, it’s where the facility director has always lived.”

      With only cursory family notice paid to Montague House, it was inevitable the museum would fall prey to mismanagement. A state of affairs only discovered some two years ago. In spite of the trust, the enterprise was losing money. Hemorrhaging it really, one of the uncles pointed out. Between maintenance of the building and care of the works it housed, it would be insolvent in no time. And then it would either have to become fully open to the public—an idea that made the more conservative members of the family shudder—or it would be closed and Grandfather’s life’s work dispersed.

      Dante’s uncle, the current marquess, assembled his brothers and their children to discuss the fate of Montague House. While none of them wished to see their father’s, or grandfather’s, wishes ignored, they did realize something needed to be done and perhaps trusting someone outside of the family was not wise.

      Upon reflection, Dante wasn’t certain who had first raised the idea of his taking over supervision of Montague House. After all, he did have an excellent head for management and business enterprises as well as firm appreciation and understanding of the world of art and antiquities. In certain circles he was considered something of an expert. Certainly he could put Montague House back on solid financial footing and establish a respectable reputation in the process. If not, perhaps it was time to donate Grandfather’s collections to a more venerable institution and sell the house. Or use it as the residence it was originally intended to be. Several of Dante’s cousins expressed interest in that possibility. Obviously the only one who could—or was willing—to save Grandfather’s legacy was the only son of his youngest son.

      “We are simply pointing out that it seems the oddest sort of coincidence that you took up residence at Montague House at very nearly the same time you were publically rebuffed by Miss Pauling.”

      “It is indeed a coincidence and I was not publically rebuffed.”

      “You were according to what I heard.” Harriet shrugged. “Everyone said so.”

      “Gossip rarely has anything to do with truth,” Dante said sharply. “And I was not rebuffed as I was not especially interested in Miss Pauling.”

      Admittedly, he—along with very nearly every other single man in London—had found Juliet Pauling lovely and exciting. One never knew what to expect from her. She was adventurous and daring and exhilarating. He had indeed called on her several times but eventually realized she had her sights set on bigger fish than the untitled grandson of a marquess. Regrettably, she was as calculating as she was charming, as designing as she was delightful. Which was why it took him far too long to realize he was little more than a pawn in her quest for a title, a means to make a better catch jealous. Unfortunately, thanks to the unrelenting gossip of people exactly like his sister, his name had been linked with hers. When her betrothal to the son of a duke was announced, it came as a surprise to nearly everyone in society and to no one more than to Dante. He hadn’t thought she was quite so devious as to not give him even a glimmer of warning.

      “We shouldn’t tease you about this,” Roz said in a sincere manner he didn’t believe for a moment. “A broken heart is nothing to make fun of.”

      “It is dreadfully sad though.” Harriet heaved the sort of sigh only a romantic young woman could manage. “The love of your life throwing you over for another man even if he was the son of a duke.”

      “She was not the love of my life. Nor did she break my heart.”

      “Obviously a mistake on my part.” Amusement shone in his sister’s eye. “Silly of me to confuse a broken heart with badly bruised pride.”

      “I’m quite sure I have mentioned this before, any number of times by my count, but neither my heart nor my pride was broken or bruised,” Dante said firmly. Only to himself would he acknowledge that a broken heart was a fate he had narrowly averted and there might possibly have been the slightest bruising of his pride. “Furthermore, that was two years ago.”

      “And in these past two years you have become something of a recluse,” Roz said pointedly. “When you’re not engaged in the management of your businesses, you have buried yourself in the Herculean task of setting all in order at Montague House. You have completely ignored any kind of social encounter that wasn’t required. And those for the most part have been family obligations.”

      “For the hundredth time, sister dear.” Dante struggled to keep his temper in check. It wasn’t easy. Roz refused to accept that between Montague House and his business interests, his life was inordinately full. He had no time for frivolity and no interest at the moment in pursuing anything of a romantic nature. “I have a great deal to attend to and other pursuits are simply going to have to wait.”

      “Pursuits such as finding a wife?”

      “Exactly,” he snapped. “I have neither the time nor the inclination right now for romantic entanglements.”

СКАЧАТЬ