Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman. Julia Justiss

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СКАЧАТЬ she declared with a defiant glance at Amanda—just in case she was too dim to understand the jab, Amanda thought, struggling to hang on to her temper.

      ‘Uncle James, have you any books in your library about the Navy?’ she said, turning to Lord Bronning. ‘Oh, never mind, I shall go directly myself and look!’

      At that, with as little ceremony as she’d displayed upon her precipitate arrival, Althea bolted from the room.

      In the wake of her departure, Amanda sent her father an appealing look. ‘Papa, you must warn her off Mr Anders. If we’re not careful, she’ll be painting him as another Lord Nelson!’

      ‘And doubtless urging him to recite details of shipboard life in language not fit for a lady’s ears,’ Papa agreed ruefully.

      ‘I know you feel for her, having lost her mama so soon after her papa, but truly, you must counsel her about this. Heaven knows, I don’t dare say anything for fear she will immediately take that as a challenge to parade with him about the neighbourhood.’

      Papa nodded. ‘She does seem to take umbrage at everything you say. Which I find most odd, since during Felicia’s visits when you girls were younger, Althea used to hang on your every word and copy everything you did.’

      Amanda sighed. A smaller but no less stinging wound to her heart this last year was the, to her, inexplicable hostility with which her cousin now seemed to view her. ‘Truly, Papa, I have tried to be understanding. I don’t know why she seems to resent me so. Perhaps I did criticise her conduct overmuch when she first arrived—I really can’t recall—but with Aunt Felicia so ill and the house in such an uproar, and then Mama falling sick—’

      ‘There now, you mustn’t be blaming yourself,’ Papa said, patting her arm. ‘You were a marvel through that trying time, taking over the household so your dear mama need concern herself only with Felicia …’ His breath hitched and his eyes grew moist before he continued, ‘So strong and capable, I couldn’t be prouder of you. But Althea is young, and perhaps chafed at authority being assumed by one she’d considered almost a peer. She was distraught, and bereft, and grieving—not a felicitous combination for any of us.’

      Amanda blinked the tears back from her eyes. ‘Indeed not, Papa.’ Papa might think her strong, but in truth she had barely managed to hold the household together and was still trying to recover her spirits. Oh, how she yearned to escape Ashton Grove, all its problems and sad memories, and lose herself in the distractions of London!

      Though her younger brother had lately arrived to add to her anxieties, Althea remained the most acute of her burdens. Her own feelings depressed and raw after Mama’s death, Amanda couldn’t help wishing she might be rid of the troublesome girl—a desire Althea probably sensed, which did nothing to ease the tensions between them.

      All her life, she reflected with another pang of grief, she’d been wrapped in a protective cocoon of love and affection spun by her mother and grandmother, buoyed along the floodtide of events by a happiness and security she’d taken for granted until the catastrophes of the last two years—losing first Grandmama, then Aunt Felicia, then Mama—had stripped it from her. Her longing for supportive female company had been sharpened by her difficult relations with her cousin, the only female relative left to her.

      Small wonder she yearned to reach London, where she would be staying with Lady Parnell, her mother’s dear friend whom she’d had known since childhood. Perhaps the affection of this companion from Mama’s own début Season might ease her grief and fill some part of the void left by the last two years’ devastating losses.

      ‘So you will speak to Althea?’ she pleaded, hoping against hope Papa might be able to head off this new complication. ‘’Tis for her own good, you know. What would Aunt Felicia say if she knew we’d allowed Althea to pursue a most unsuitable friendship with a common sailor?’

      ‘Yes, I know I must reprimand her, and I will—gently, though.’

      Her chest squeezing in a surge of love for her kindly sire, Amanda couldn’t help smiling. ‘I only ask that you try to guide her, Papa. You know as well as I you haven’t the heart to reprimand anyone, no matter how much she might need it!’

      ‘I suppose I have been too indulgent. But you’re quite right—it is my responsibility to my dear sister to protect her daughter and counsel her as best I can.’

      ‘Perhaps you could chat without my being present. She’d probably be more inclined to accept instruction if I’m not looking on. Well, I suppose I must go inform Cook about the changes in the dinner plans.’

      ‘I’ll escort you out,’ Bronning said, rising and coming to take her hand. ‘One of my prize mares is about to foal. I think I’ll take myself down to the barn and check on her.’

      Accepting her father’s arm, Amanda walked back down the long hall to the marble entryway with him, her concern about Althea somewhat mollified. Given her cousin’s contemptuous disregard of her, there wasn’t much else she could do but leave the matter in Papa’s hands.

      They had just reached the grand entry when the front door was thrown back so violently it banged against the wall. Staggering across the threshold, Amanda’s brother George stumbled into the room, waving off the footman who sprinted over to take his coat.

      Her father stopped abruptly and eyed his only son with alarm. ‘George, what’s amiss? Have you suffered an injury?’

      With his red face and bleary eyes, hair in disarray, neckcloth coming undone and his waistcoat misbuttoned, George did indeed look as if he might have been in an altercation—a fear Amanda initially shared, before a strong odour of spirits wafted to her.

      Her initial concern turned swiftly to irritation as she recalled her brother had not appeared at dinner last evening. Most likely he’d not returned home at all and had instead spent yesterday afternoon, evening and today gaming—or wenching—at some low tavern.

      A glance at her father’s face confirmed he had just reached the same conclusion. His expression of alarm turned to chagrin and a pained sadness, and unconsciously he raised a hand to press against his chest.

      Fury swept through her and she could have cheerfully throttled her brother. How could George be so stupid and thoughtless as to make his dramatic entrance in such a deplorable condition? It was almost as if he expressly desired to agitate and disappoint his already sorely troubled father!

      ‘Papa, why don’t you head out to the stables and check on your mare? I’ll see George to his room. Come along, now,’ she said to her brother, pleased she’d managed to keep her tone even when what she really wished to do was shriek her displeasure into her feckless brother’s ears.

      Contenting herself with giving George’s arm a sharp pinch as she took it, she steered him towards the stairs. Nodding over her shoulder to Papa, who hesitated before finally approaching the butler for his coat, she began half-pushing, half-pulling her brother upwards.

      ‘I hope I shall not contract some nasty disease from having to haul you about,’ she snapped as she finally succeeded in wrestling him up the stairs and into his room. ‘How can you still be so drunk at this hour of the afternoon?’

      ‘Not drunk,’ he slurred, stumbling past her towards the bed. ‘Just … trifle disguised.’

      ‘Was it not enough that you had to distress Papa by getting yourself sent down from Cambridge for some stupid prank?’ she said, unable to СКАЧАТЬ