Read Online Anita Mills by The Rogue's Return - Free Book Online
Authors: The Rogue's Return
Ads: Link
corrected her.
Once again the faintly derisive smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she realized she was merely affording him amusement. Swallowing a caustic set-down, she ducked beneath his arm into the hall. It was impossible to win verbally against a man who refused to be wounded.
Chapter 4
4
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She was dreaming the wild, disordered dreams of the overweary. The opulently appointed opera house was crowded, its glittering patrons seated in gilded boxes, their jewels reflecting the thousand candles that blazed from sconces on the walls. Center stage, a dark-haired soprano sang, her rich and vibrant voice rising to the dramatic conclusion of the aria so spectacularly that the assemblage seemed to hold a collective breath. And then there was the applause, rolling, thunderous applause, mingled with shouted huzzahs, as the woman took the first of many curtsies. Coaxed, she sang again. And again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
There was Mrs. Philbrook leaning into her face, her thin lips drawn tight with disapproval. Your mother was naught but an opera dancer, missy, and we all know what they are, don’t we?
Not Mama—not Mama! Mama was a lady!
You’ve got designs beyond your station, missy… designs beyond your station … designs beyond your station …
Quentin Fordyce bowed low over her hand, then smiled at her. I believe we are relations, Miss Morland. I am come from the general…. Your grandpapa is wishful of seeing you…. She was lying down. He was bending over her, shaking her. A scream rose in her throat. His hand closed over her mouth, stifling her cry.
“Don’t be a fool, Miss Morland.”
Her eyes flew open, and she stared into Dominick Deveraux’s face. For a moment she did not comprehend; then she began to struggle.
There was no mistaking the fear in her eyes. “I am not given to rapine, my dear,” he murmured. “Hold your tongue and listen.” He released her and stepped back. “We’ve got to go, I’m afraid. Thankfully, you slept in the shirt and breeches.”
She blinked blankly, her mind not following his meaning at first; then she looked about her in sleepy stupor. Go? It was not even getting dark yet.
“But it cannot be time, surely. I mean—”
“ ’Tis a quarter before four.”
“I’ve had no sleep. I—”
“There is not the time to argue with you, Miss Morland. Our Bertie has discovered his money gone, and the looby promised to settle at dinner.”
“Gone! But where … ?” With an effort, she rolled to sit on the edge of the bed. Already he was handing her Bascombe’s coat, but she was too groggy to take it. “But we cannot leave without paying. Surely you—”
“Apparently someone appropriated his purse at the Blue Bull.” He lifted her arm and thrust her hand into the sleeve. “And I have not the blunt to spare.”
She pulled away, then struggled into the coat herself. “We cannot repay kindness with theft,” she protested.
“New custom is arriving already, and we can possibly get out undetected down the back stairs.” His gaze dropped to where her breasts were outlined beneath the clothes, and he realized she’d removed the confining zona. He looked about, then spied Albert Bascombe’s caped greatcoat. “Here, wrap this around you. If anyone asks, we are going for a walk in the air before we sup.”
“ ’Tis not right, Mr. Deveraux—’tis not right.”
“There’s nothing I can do about it this instant—come on.” He caught her hand and started for the door, but she pulled away. “Miss Morland …”He enunciated the words with exaggerated patience. “I left Lyons rather abruptly, carrying only what I expected to need for myself, and I cannot draw a bank draft without giving my presence in England away.”
“No, I suppose not, but—”
“However, my little Puritan, once I am safe, the Red Hart will be paid. ’Tis not my custom to beat the tradesmen, I promise you. Satisfied?” Not waiting for an answer, he slipped into the
Once again the faintly derisive smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she realized she was merely affording him amusement. Swallowing a caustic set-down, she ducked beneath his arm into the hall. It was impossible to win verbally against a man who refused to be wounded.
Chapter 4
4
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She was dreaming the wild, disordered dreams of the overweary. The opulently appointed opera house was crowded, its glittering patrons seated in gilded boxes, their jewels reflecting the thousand candles that blazed from sconces on the walls. Center stage, a dark-haired soprano sang, her rich and vibrant voice rising to the dramatic conclusion of the aria so spectacularly that the assemblage seemed to hold a collective breath. And then there was the applause, rolling, thunderous applause, mingled with shouted huzzahs, as the woman took the first of many curtsies. Coaxed, she sang again. And again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
There was Mrs. Philbrook leaning into her face, her thin lips drawn tight with disapproval. Your mother was naught but an opera dancer, missy, and we all know what they are, don’t we?
Not Mama—not Mama! Mama was a lady!
You’ve got designs beyond your station, missy… designs beyond your station … designs beyond your station …
Quentin Fordyce bowed low over her hand, then smiled at her. I believe we are relations, Miss Morland. I am come from the general…. Your grandpapa is wishful of seeing you…. She was lying down. He was bending over her, shaking her. A scream rose in her throat. His hand closed over her mouth, stifling her cry.
“Don’t be a fool, Miss Morland.”
Her eyes flew open, and she stared into Dominick Deveraux’s face. For a moment she did not comprehend; then she began to struggle.
There was no mistaking the fear in her eyes. “I am not given to rapine, my dear,” he murmured. “Hold your tongue and listen.” He released her and stepped back. “We’ve got to go, I’m afraid. Thankfully, you slept in the shirt and breeches.”
She blinked blankly, her mind not following his meaning at first; then she looked about her in sleepy stupor. Go? It was not even getting dark yet.
“But it cannot be time, surely. I mean—”
“ ’Tis a quarter before four.”
“I’ve had no sleep. I—”
“There is not the time to argue with you, Miss Morland. Our Bertie has discovered his money gone, and the looby promised to settle at dinner.”
“Gone! But where … ?” With an effort, she rolled to sit on the edge of the bed. Already he was handing her Bascombe’s coat, but she was too groggy to take it. “But we cannot leave without paying. Surely you—”
“Apparently someone appropriated his purse at the Blue Bull.” He lifted her arm and thrust her hand into the sleeve. “And I have not the blunt to spare.”
She pulled away, then struggled into the coat herself. “We cannot repay kindness with theft,” she protested.
“New custom is arriving already, and we can possibly get out undetected down the back stairs.” His gaze dropped to where her breasts were outlined beneath the clothes, and he realized she’d removed the confining zona. He looked about, then spied Albert Bascombe’s caped greatcoat. “Here, wrap this around you. If anyone asks, we are going for a walk in the air before we sup.”
“ ’Tis not right, Mr. Deveraux—’tis not right.”
“There’s nothing I can do about it this instant—come on.” He caught her hand and started for the door, but she pulled away. “Miss Morland …”He enunciated the words with exaggerated patience. “I left Lyons rather abruptly, carrying only what I expected to need for myself, and I cannot draw a bank draft without giving my presence in England away.”
“No, I suppose not, but—”
“However, my little Puritan, once I am safe, the Red Hart will be paid. ’Tis not my custom to beat the tradesmen, I promise you. Satisfied?” Not waiting for an answer, he slipped into the
Similar Books
