Read Online A Diamond in the Rough (v1.1) by Andrea Pickens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Andrea Pickens
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local Society . . .” His friend kept up a stream of pithy comments, but Marquand could not help but find his thoughts straying back to his own bleak reflections.
Fool, indeed! His lips compressed in a tight line. Nobody but a fool would imagine he could master a complicated sport in a few short weeks, much less best an opponent who had been playing the game for years. No, to have any hope of success, he would have to be extraordinarily lucky, and the thought of such dependence on serendipitous chance, rather than his own hard work, galled him no end. He had spent most of his lifetime as an unwilling thrall to the Lady of Fortune, witnessing how fickle her attentions could be. His father might have chosen to make her his mistress, but he had always sworn he would never be seduced by such promiscuous charms.
The coach creaked to a stop, and Marquand realized he hadn’t heard a word of what Ellington had been chattering about for the last few minutes. Quelling the urge to order the coachman to turn right around toward London without so much as setting a foot on the slippery cobblestones, he sighed and made to follow his friend in climbing down to the street.
“Come now, Adrian, you are not usually one to shy away from a challenge. Stop looking so mutton-faced!"
The problem was, he felt just like a sheep being led to slaughter.
Chapter Four
Philp sucked in a mouthful of pungent smoke and ran a hand along the edge of his jaw. He sat for what seemed like an age, staring at the figure standing in front of him before finally speaking. “Turn around.” Marquand’s eyes narrowed slightly in irritation but he did as he was told.
“Hmmm. Now face me again, if you please.” When the Viscount had complied, he went on. “Bend forward slightly from the waist, sir, and let your arms hang straight down.”
“What the deuce am I, an ape on display at the Tower Menagerie?” growled Marquand under his breath. He fell silent on catching a warning look from Ellington but his expression didn’t hide what he thought of the proceeding so far. His misgivings were only exacerbated when Philp came over and gave his wrists a shake. “Looser, sir. You must relax.” When he had complied, the older man wrapped the Viscount’s unresisting hands around a tapered stick.
“I thought you were going to teach me about golf,” he said with some impatience. “In case Bowmont did not make it clear, I have precious little time in which to gain any proficiency in the sport, so I would prefer not to waste even a morning of it.”
Philp only gave an enigmatic smile and continued to make a number of marks on the length of hickory with a piece of chalk.
However the slender figure seated in the shadows of the workroom gave an undisguised snort of derision. “Perhaps the gentleman has no more brains than a monkey, Mr. Philp, if he has so little faith in your knowledge and expertise.” The words were spoken just loudly enough for Marquand to hear them. “As you have often said, even a monkey may be taught to strike a golf ball. But to be a real player he must be willing to listen and learn. And trust that his teacher knows what he is talking about.”
“Derry,” warned Philp in a low voice as Ellington stifled a chuckle.
A faint flush rose to the Viscount’s cheeks. “Who is the brat?”
“Don’t take offense, sir,” murmured Philp as he straightened and began to measure the width of Marquand’s palm and the length of his fingers with a piece of narrow canvas tape. “The lad may have a sharp tongue”—he directed another pointed look at Derrien— “but he possesses a knowledge of the game that is equally well-honed. He’s going to serve as your caddie these coming weeks.”
“The devil he will! If you think I’m going to allow some impudent—”
“Ahem.” Ellington cleared his throat with deliberate loudness, causing the Viscount to bite off the rest of his retort. “Mr. Philp does come highly recommended, Adrian, and we
Fool, indeed! His lips compressed in a tight line. Nobody but a fool would imagine he could master a complicated sport in a few short weeks, much less best an opponent who had been playing the game for years. No, to have any hope of success, he would have to be extraordinarily lucky, and the thought of such dependence on serendipitous chance, rather than his own hard work, galled him no end. He had spent most of his lifetime as an unwilling thrall to the Lady of Fortune, witnessing how fickle her attentions could be. His father might have chosen to make her his mistress, but he had always sworn he would never be seduced by such promiscuous charms.
The coach creaked to a stop, and Marquand realized he hadn’t heard a word of what Ellington had been chattering about for the last few minutes. Quelling the urge to order the coachman to turn right around toward London without so much as setting a foot on the slippery cobblestones, he sighed and made to follow his friend in climbing down to the street.
“Come now, Adrian, you are not usually one to shy away from a challenge. Stop looking so mutton-faced!"
The problem was, he felt just like a sheep being led to slaughter.
Chapter Four
Philp sucked in a mouthful of pungent smoke and ran a hand along the edge of his jaw. He sat for what seemed like an age, staring at the figure standing in front of him before finally speaking. “Turn around.” Marquand’s eyes narrowed slightly in irritation but he did as he was told.
“Hmmm. Now face me again, if you please.” When the Viscount had complied, he went on. “Bend forward slightly from the waist, sir, and let your arms hang straight down.”
“What the deuce am I, an ape on display at the Tower Menagerie?” growled Marquand under his breath. He fell silent on catching a warning look from Ellington but his expression didn’t hide what he thought of the proceeding so far. His misgivings were only exacerbated when Philp came over and gave his wrists a shake. “Looser, sir. You must relax.” When he had complied, the older man wrapped the Viscount’s unresisting hands around a tapered stick.
“I thought you were going to teach me about golf,” he said with some impatience. “In case Bowmont did not make it clear, I have precious little time in which to gain any proficiency in the sport, so I would prefer not to waste even a morning of it.”
Philp only gave an enigmatic smile and continued to make a number of marks on the length of hickory with a piece of chalk.
However the slender figure seated in the shadows of the workroom gave an undisguised snort of derision. “Perhaps the gentleman has no more brains than a monkey, Mr. Philp, if he has so little faith in your knowledge and expertise.” The words were spoken just loudly enough for Marquand to hear them. “As you have often said, even a monkey may be taught to strike a golf ball. But to be a real player he must be willing to listen and learn. And trust that his teacher knows what he is talking about.”
“Derry,” warned Philp in a low voice as Ellington stifled a chuckle.
A faint flush rose to the Viscount’s cheeks. “Who is the brat?”
“Don’t take offense, sir,” murmured Philp as he straightened and began to measure the width of Marquand’s palm and the length of his fingers with a piece of narrow canvas tape. “The lad may have a sharp tongue”—he directed another pointed look at Derrien— “but he possesses a knowledge of the game that is equally well-honed. He’s going to serve as your caddie these coming weeks.”
“The devil he will! If you think I’m going to allow some impudent—”
“Ahem.” Ellington cleared his throat with deliberate loudness, causing the Viscount to bite off the rest of his retort. “Mr. Philp does come highly recommended, Adrian, and we
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