Read Online Barbara Metzger by The Wicked Ways of a True Hero (prc) - Free Book Online

she had wondrous hair, with golden sparks among the browns, thick and wavy, far past her shoulders. If only . . .
     
     
Corie twisted the fichu some more. The poor thing would be unwearable in another minute. If you are worried about the money, I will be able to repay you eventually, or if I marry, my husband shall, from my dowry. Or I can economize and not allow Lady Cora to purchase half the gowns she feels I need.
     
     
No, its not the money. Im not a squeeze penny like your father. He almost bit his lip. Now he was belittling the girls sire. For all he knew, she was devoted to the squire. He was her own father, after all.
     
     
Then if what? If I dont stay long, if I do not insist on your company at every turn? Believe me, Mr. Stamfield, I would far rather take my maid or a footman on errands or walks.
     
     
If . . . if you behave yourself, he blurted. And if you dont bring disgrace to my mother and sister.
     
     
Disgrace? Behave? Me?
     
     
Well, your past, you know. Your reputation.
     
     
The fichu ripped in half, Corie was torturing it so. Too bad it wasnt the dastards heart she had between her hands. What did he think, that she would tie her garters in public or arrange secret trysts with her lovers in dark, empty rooms?
     
     
This was a dark, empty room, with no chaperone in sight. Bother! Corie had taken enough insult from this uncouth creature in his oversized body and underused brain. Forgetting he was her host and Lady Coras darling, forgetting she was a lady, whether he believed it or not, she tossed the balled-up remnants of the fichu in his face. You speak of my reputation, sirrah, when it is your own that will bring us down? It is not I who has been living in the London stews, associating with cutpurses and crossing sweeps. I do not get into brawls. Then she listened to her own words and clasped her hands behind her back lest she strike him.
     
     
Now he raised his glass and drained the contents. I do not run off with penniless soldiers.
     
     
No, you run off with prostitutes.
     
     
You see? Talk like that isnt befitting a true lady. My sister should never hear such words.
     
     
Then she should not hear the tittle-tattle about her brother, for that is what is said. You never seemed to care about that, that your family would hear reports of your profligate ways.
     
     
My ways are no worse than any other gentlemans. Not very, anyway.
     
     
Well, I say you are no gentleman to be calling me names, when I have nearly been living the life of a cloistered nun. But here you are, wearing your fathers shoes, drinking your uncles wine, letting your mother run your estate.
     
     
You forgot I am living in my cousins rooms, he added drily.
     
     
Rooms located over a disreputable gaming club.
     
     
I object to that. Theres nothing disreputable about McCanns. They run honest tables and dont water the wine.
     
     
Corie overrode his protest by stamping her bare foot. Susanna says that before your cousins pulled you out of your drunken stupor, you lived in low dives. You were nothing but a miserable, hotheaded drunk. For all I know, you still are, except in better surroundings. She pointedly put the stopper back in the decanter. Youre afraid doors will be shut to us because of me? Without your mother, you could not get through half the entry halls in Mayfair without a battering ram.
     
     
I was never a miserable drunk, he interrupted. I was quite content, in fact. From what he could remember, anyway. Hed done his best to forget the war and Rexs wounds. There was no fishwife carping at me.
     
     
Corie was too incensed to care that her voice was raised, as was her ire. Her nerves were too frazzled with worry. Her plans were too crucial to leave to this buffoon. Maybe someone should have shouted at you. Maybe your mother should have come and dragged you home and knocked some sense into that thick skull of yours. You are a blot on your name, a useless stain.
     
     
He scowled at her. Not