Read Online Always a Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
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friends.”
August frowned, clearly attempting to decipher him—something that Bram truly disliked. As if the pampered firstborn son would ever be able to understand what motivated the second. As if Bram knew even half the time what motivated him.
“They may not be your friends, but they’ve certainly committed no more sins than you have,” the marquis finally decided. “And they can have you arrested if any of them realizes it’s you who’s been burgling them.”
“I look forward to it. Was there anything else you wanted? Because I do have some plundering and pillaging on my calendar for today.”
“Yes. Come to dinner tomorrow. The children want to see you again.”
Bram lifted an eyebrow. “That invitation is a bit stunted, even for you.”
“I won’t apologize for not being as glib as you are. Bring some of your cronies if that makes your attendance more likely. Just not that damned Cosgrove. I won’t have him in my home.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Giving a nod, August turned to descend the stairs again. Just as Bram let out his breath in relief, though, his brother stopped. “Will you answer me one question honestly, Bram?”
“That depends on the question.”
The Marquis of Haithe topped the stairs again. “Cosgrove. For five years, even when you weren’t at war on the Peninsula, you barely had any communication with him. Now over the past year or so you two seem to be fast friends again. Why?”
For a moment Bram considered ignoring the question, simply retreating to his bedchamber until August left the house. If it had been his father asking, he would have said something about anything being an improvement after a conversation with Levonzy.
“I had two very dear friends,” he said finally. “In their absence, I suppose the old saying ‘the devil you know’ applies.”
“Your friends, did they die in the war? If I’d known, if you’d said something, I might have—”
“A fate worse than death befell them,” Bram interrupted, unwilling to listen to August’s account of how he would have provided sage advice and brotherly affection. “They both married and became insufferably happy about it. Disgusting, really.” Even if their spouses were among the most tolerable females he’d ever met.
“Bram, that—”
“Good day, August. I actually do have an appointment this morning.”
“Very well. And I expect to see you tomorrow evening, promptly at seven.”
With a noncommittal grunt, Bram watched his brother out the front door. He gave the marquis five minutes to dilly about or think of another abysmally obvious question or observation, and then headed back downstairs.
“I’ll be out all day, I imagine,” he informed Hibble as he pulled on his black leather gloves and black greatcoat. “If anyone calls to inquire, tell them I’ve…gone to Scandinavia.”
The butler nodded. “Very good, my lord. Will you be returning for dinner?”
“Doubtful. Just on the odd chance, have Cook put on a pot of something.”
“I’ll see to it.”
He collected Titan and rode off in the direction of Davies House. Since, as Mostin had agreed, he never did anything that didn’t have a benefit in it for himself, he merely needed to decipher what he hoped to accomplish by befriending Rosamund Davies. Last night he’d dreamed of her mouth. It had done all the things he liked female mouths to do, and very well, but more interesting had been the talking. They’d chatted about all sorts of nonsense in his dream, and he’d enjoyed it. Talking. With a female. And after having sex with her. Some very excellent sex, if he said so himself.
Shocking. Best to become better acquainted with her and her family’s circumstances, and with the details of King’s plan, and then he could decide what it was that he wanted in all of this. Aside from bedding Rosamund Davies while wide awake, that was. And considering the circumstances and his supposed friendship with her groom-to-be, that was not
August frowned, clearly attempting to decipher him—something that Bram truly disliked. As if the pampered firstborn son would ever be able to understand what motivated the second. As if Bram knew even half the time what motivated him.
“They may not be your friends, but they’ve certainly committed no more sins than you have,” the marquis finally decided. “And they can have you arrested if any of them realizes it’s you who’s been burgling them.”
“I look forward to it. Was there anything else you wanted? Because I do have some plundering and pillaging on my calendar for today.”
“Yes. Come to dinner tomorrow. The children want to see you again.”
Bram lifted an eyebrow. “That invitation is a bit stunted, even for you.”
“I won’t apologize for not being as glib as you are. Bring some of your cronies if that makes your attendance more likely. Just not that damned Cosgrove. I won’t have him in my home.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Giving a nod, August turned to descend the stairs again. Just as Bram let out his breath in relief, though, his brother stopped. “Will you answer me one question honestly, Bram?”
“That depends on the question.”
The Marquis of Haithe topped the stairs again. “Cosgrove. For five years, even when you weren’t at war on the Peninsula, you barely had any communication with him. Now over the past year or so you two seem to be fast friends again. Why?”
For a moment Bram considered ignoring the question, simply retreating to his bedchamber until August left the house. If it had been his father asking, he would have said something about anything being an improvement after a conversation with Levonzy.
“I had two very dear friends,” he said finally. “In their absence, I suppose the old saying ‘the devil you know’ applies.”
“Your friends, did they die in the war? If I’d known, if you’d said something, I might have—”
“A fate worse than death befell them,” Bram interrupted, unwilling to listen to August’s account of how he would have provided sage advice and brotherly affection. “They both married and became insufferably happy about it. Disgusting, really.” Even if their spouses were among the most tolerable females he’d ever met.
“Bram, that—”
“Good day, August. I actually do have an appointment this morning.”
“Very well. And I expect to see you tomorrow evening, promptly at seven.”
With a noncommittal grunt, Bram watched his brother out the front door. He gave the marquis five minutes to dilly about or think of another abysmally obvious question or observation, and then headed back downstairs.
“I’ll be out all day, I imagine,” he informed Hibble as he pulled on his black leather gloves and black greatcoat. “If anyone calls to inquire, tell them I’ve…gone to Scandinavia.”
The butler nodded. “Very good, my lord. Will you be returning for dinner?”
“Doubtful. Just on the odd chance, have Cook put on a pot of something.”
“I’ll see to it.”
He collected Titan and rode off in the direction of Davies House. Since, as Mostin had agreed, he never did anything that didn’t have a benefit in it for himself, he merely needed to decipher what he hoped to accomplish by befriending Rosamund Davies. Last night he’d dreamed of her mouth. It had done all the things he liked female mouths to do, and very well, but more interesting had been the talking. They’d chatted about all sorts of nonsense in his dream, and he’d enjoyed it. Talking. With a female. And after having sex with her. Some very excellent sex, if he said so himself.
Shocking. Best to become better acquainted with her and her family’s circumstances, and with the details of King’s plan, and then he could decide what it was that he wanted in all of this. Aside from bedding Rosamund Davies while wide awake, that was. And considering the circumstances and his supposed friendship with her groom-to-be, that was not
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