The Wayward Debutante. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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СКАЧАТЬ And how’s Will?”

      “Just returned from six months in the country. Haven’t seen him yet. Why don’t you come along? You’d be doing me a tremendous favor.”

      Jonathon made himself comfortable on the worn sofa. “Why, so I can play buffer between you? No thanks. You can handle him perfectly well on your own.”

      “He’s bloody persistent, though. Every time I see him, he brings up things I don’t want to talk about.”

      “Like Richard.”

      James shrugged. Even in the privacy of his home, with his best friend, he still didn’t want to talk about his eldest brother. “Richard is dead. He doesn’t concern me anymore.”

      “Of course,” Jonathon said, obviously unconvinced.

      James sat back down, wishing Jonathon wasn’t so bloody astute. But the truth was, he didn’t think Richard would ever cease to concern him.

      Both Richard and William shared the same mother, but she’d died giving birth to Will. Their father, the fifth Earl of Lennox, had remarried one year later, this time to Diana Bentley, a renowned Irish beauty and his lifelong love. Unfortunately, she’d also been an actress.

      James was born a year later and Will, only two at the time, had adored his little brother instantly. But Richard was another matter. He’d been eight when his father remarried, old enough to be aware of the traces of infamy that clouded James’s mother’s past. He’d despised her, and he’d hated James, too. To his sneering and slightly mad eyes, she was a lowborn whore, and her son carried her tainted blood. He’d told James this every chance he’d got. Although James hated Richard right back, these words dominated his childhood. He’d always been afraid that despite a polite facade, the rest of society felt much the same way.

      Unfortunately, Richard concealed this side of his personality well, and when both parents died in a fire, no one questioned his ability to be guardian to James and Will, who were only nine and eleven. As the eldest son, Richard would control their education and incomes. He also inherited the title and the bulk of family estates until they came of age.

      Will hadn’t fared too badly, but for James, the years that followed were marked by unhappiness and abuse. Will did what he could to protect his younger brother against Richard, but he, too, was just a child. James bore his brother’s cruelty as long as he could, and if only he could have borne it for a few more years he would have come into his inheritance—not a great fortune, but enough to pay his commission and become an officer in His Majesty’s service, like every other third or fourth son. Instead, he’d run away at sixteen, with only the money in his pocket. He’d slept on the side of the road for two days, but then came across a recruiting party at a public house. A red-coated captain had urged all able-bodied men present to protect their fair island from the French scourge, but what sounded most attractive to James—who’d had one pint of ale too many for his youthful head—was the promise of a clean uniform and a hot meal. At least he wouldn’t starve, and although he was presently unable to buy his commission, perhaps he could earn his place as an officer through honest hard work.

      “Will just refuses to accept that I’ve created a life for myself separate from everything he values,” James said finally. “I’ve no love for titles and inherited privilege.”

      “He just wants to correct past wrongs. Feels guilty because you had to struggle for so many years while his life was easy. Richard was mad.”

      “Mad, yes, and not too fond of me, either. I know all this, so let’s drop the subject.”

      When he’d left home, he’d thought nothing could be worse than life with Richard, but two years in the army had proved him wrong. The life of a professional soldier was a far cry from the more comfortable existence of an officer. Jonathon had been in his regiment, and they’d become friends whilst sitting in a muddy ditch trying not to be killed. It turned out that Jonathon knew several members of his mother’s family. James’s grandfather owned a Dublin theater, and Jonathon had worked there as an actor and playwright. They’d spent hours plotting ways to escape the service, but these plans became irrelevant when a Frenchman fired a bullet straight at James’s heart; Jonathon shoved him out of the way, taking the bullet himself. James would be forever grateful for this act, although by the end of the day he, too, was struck down. Wounded but alive, both were released from further duty. They’d traveled to Ireland, where Jonathon promised to introduce him to the family he’d never met.

      And they’d embraced him. He’d felt for the first time in many years that he had a family. He’d even adopted his mother’s maiden name, a change that Will took issue with; his name would certainly be a topic of conversation at dinner that night. He’d stayed there for almost a decade, until news of Richard’s death arrived.

      When he’d returned, Jonathon had come with him, hoping to pursue his dream of owning a London theater. He’d saved a bit of money, and James had helped him with the rest.

      “You are being rather stubborn, James, I must say,” said Jonathon, unwilling to let the subject drop that easily. “Will has a point. Richard’s gone. You’ve moved back to London, you’ve claimed your inheritance. So start using your real name, too, and pretend to be respectable.”

      James rose, picked up his jacket once more and headed for the library door without responding to that suggestion. “Sure you won’t come tonight?”

      Jonathon reluctantly rose from his comfortable position and followed him out of the room and across the marble hall. “Theater won’t run itself. By the by, did you enjoy yourself last night?”

      James’s head experienced a tiny pulse of pain at the memory. He knew exactly what Jonathon was referring to. He opened the front door with a quiet groan and stepped outside. “You witnessed my shame?”

      “Kitty Budgen is rather conspicuous, I’m afraid. Laughs like a jackal.”

      “A real friend would have stopped me.”

      “It was too amusing to stop.”

      James hadn’t intended on spending his evening with Kitty Budgen, sometime actress and notorious flirt. He’d gone to the theater merely to sign some papers and had been about to leave when he’d spotted a lone woman seated in the audience. Unaccompanied women were invariably prostitutes and not good for business, so he was going to ask her to leave. He’d been waiting for the right moment, but the longer he watched her the less convinced he became. He couldn’t see her face, but her tight, priggish hair and drab clothes didn’t correspond to a prostitute’s colorful appearance. Furthermore, she definitely wasn’t trying to solicit anyone’s attention. He’d started to lose interest, and then Kitty had come along and he’d forgotten about her altogether…

      How surprised he’d been when he finally surfaced from Kitty’s charms to see the woman now turned around in her seat, staring at him with a mixture of shock and opprobrium. Any doubts he’d had about her status vanished—he didn’t think he’d ever seen such a sincere display of maidenly outrage. He couldn’t blame her, either, all things considered.

      And he’d been damned shocked himself. She was remarkably pretty, a fact he would never have guessed from the back of her head. She was beautiful in a way that Kitty, with her garish clothes and painted face, could never be. He rather regretted the fact that he’d held back from approaching her. He had an idea she’d have been a far more interesting companion.

      “James?”

      He СКАЧАТЬ