Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman. Julia Justiss

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СКАЧАТЬ put his hands over his ears and winced, as if her strident tone pained his head. She hoped it did.

      ‘God’s blood, Manda, Allie’s right. You’ve become a shrew. Better sweeten up a little. No gentleman’s goin’ to wanna shackle himself to a female who’s always jaw’n at ‘m.’

      A pang pierced her righteous anger. Was that indeed how Althea saw her—as a shrill-voiced harpy always ordering her about? But she’d tried so hard to avoid being just that.

      Before she could decide what to reply, George groaned and clutched his abdomen. Amanda barely had time to snatch the pan from beneath the bed before her brother leaned over it, noisily casting up his accounts. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Amanda retreated to the far corner of the room.

      After a moment, George righted himself and sat on the bed, wiping his mouth. ‘Ah, that’s better. Ring for Richards, won’t you? I believe I’ll have a beefsteak and some ale.’

      Amanda couldn’t help grimacing. ‘George, you are disgusting!’

      ‘Shrew,’ he retorted with an amiable grin—which, despite her irritation and anger, she had to admit was full of charm, even in his present dishevelled condition. This brother of hers was going to cause some lady a great deal of heartache.

      But she didn’t intend it to be her—not for much longer, anyway.

      ‘If you must debauch yourself, at least have the courtesy to come in through the back stairs, so that Papa won’t see you. Can’t you tell he’s still far from recovered from Mama’s death?

      ‘Are any of us recovered?’ he flashed back, a bleak look passing briefly over his face before the grin returned. ‘What d’ya expect, Manda? There’s dam—dashed little to do in this abyss of rural tranquillity but drink and game at the one or two taverns within a ten-mile ride. I’d take myself off where my reprehensible behaviour wouldn’t offend you, but Papa won’t allow me to go to London while I wait for the beginning of next term.’

      ‘London, where you might spend even more on drink and wagering? I should think not! You’d do better to spend some time studying, so as to not be so far behind when you do return.’

      George made a disgusted noise, as if such a suggestion were beneath reply. ‘Lord, how did I tolerate living in this dull place for years? Nothing but fields and cows and crops and fields for miles in every direction! It’s almost enough to make those stupid books look appealing.’

      ‘Fields and crops in prime condition, thanks to Papa’s care, that fund your expensive sojourns at Cambridge. And if you’d paid more attention to those “stupid books” and less to carousing with your fellows, you wouldn’t be marooned in this “dull place” to begin with.’

      George squinted up at her through bloodshot eyes. ‘When did you become such a disapproving spoilsport?’

      ‘When will you become a man worthy of the Neville name?’ she retorted, her heart aching for her father’s disappointment while her anger smouldered at how George’s thoughtlessness was adding to the already-heavy burden of care her father carried. ‘Start showing some interest in the estate Papa has so carefully tended to hand on to you, instead of staying out all night, consorting with ruffians and getting into who-knows-what mischief.’

      Anger flushing his face, George opened his lips to reply before closing them abruptly. ‘Maybe I’m not ready for that steak after all,’ he mumbled, reaching for the basin.

      Realising he was about to be sick again, Amanda shook her head in disgust. There was probably no point in trying to talk with George now. ‘I’ll send Richards in,’ she said, swallowing her ire and willing herself to calm as she tugged on the bell pull and left the chamber.

      She met the valet in the hall, where he must have been hovering, having no doubt been informed by the butler of her brother’s return—and condition. ‘I’m afraid he’s disguised again and feeling quite ill. You’d better bring up some hot water and strip him down.’

      Feeling a pang of sympathy for the long-suffering servant, Amanda headed for the stairs. She paused on the landing, pressing her fingers against the temples that had begun to throb.

      Between her irresponsible brother and her sullen cousin and having to watch Papa drift around the halls and fields, a wraith-like imitation of his former hale and hearty self, was it any wonder she longed to leave Ashton and throw herself into the frivolity of London? There the most difficult dilemma would be choosing what gown to wear, her most pressing problem fitting into her social schedule all the events to which she’d be invited. Her day would be so full, she’d tumble into bed and immediately into sleep, never lie awake aching and alone, yearning for the love and security so abruptly ripped from her.

      Oh, that she might swiftly make a brilliant début, acquire a husband to pamper and adore her and settle into the busy life of a London political wife, seldom to visit the country again.

      She only hoped, as she went to search out Cook and rearrange dinner, that their unwanted guest would not make the last few weeks before she could set her plans in motion even more difficult.

       Chapter Two

      With a bestial roar, the crewman tossed the boarding nets over the side of the pirate vessel. Fear, acrid in his throat, along with a wave of excitement, carried Greville over the side and on to its prow, into the mass of slashing cutlasses, firing pistols and thrusting pikes. Blood already coated the decks, thick and slippery, when he saw the pirate charging at the captain, curved sword raised and teeth bared …

      Abruptly, Greville came awake, his heart pounding as the shriek of wind, boom of musket fire and howls of fighting men slowly faded to the quiet tick of a clock in a room where warm sunlight pooled on the floor beneath the windows.

      Morning sun, judging by the hue, he thought, trying to get his bearings. Brighter than light through a porthole.

      About the moment Greville realised he was in a proper bedchamber—a vast, elegant bedchamber—in Lord Bronning’s home at Ashton Grove, Devonshire, praise-the-Lord-England, he heard a discreet cough. Turning towards the sound, he spied a young man in footman’s livery standing inside the doorway, bearing a laden tray.

      ‘Morning, sir,’ the lad said, bowing. ‘Sands sent me up with something from the kitchen, thinking you’d likely be right sharp-set after so many hours.’

      ‘Have I been asleep long?’ Greville asked, still trying to recapture a sense of place and time.

      ‘Aye,’ the young man replied. ‘All the first night, the next day and now ‘tis almost noon of the next. Some of the staff was worried you was about to stick your spoon in the wall. But Mrs Pepys—that’s the housekeeper, sir—she’s done some nursing and she said as long as you was breathing deep and regular, there weren’t no danger of you dying and that you’d feel much the better for the rest.’

      He did feel much better, Greville thought. Moreover, he realised suddenly, for the first time since his wounding over a month ago, he hadn’t awakened to the slow, strength-sapping burn of fever.

      He was also, he discovered, truly starving. Contemplating what might lie beneath the plate cover on the tray, his mouth began to water.

      ‘You are right, I am very hungry,’ he told the footman.

      ‘Shall СКАЧАТЬ