Read Online Devil's Desire by Laurie McBain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurie McBain
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ways, and whoever she becomes entangled with next is of no interest to me," he said with a strange smile lurking in his eyes. "I'm only discussing this with you to end, once and for all, this speculation, which, it would seem the whole of London is concerned with. I do not make it a practice of mine to discuss my. personal affairs with anyone—even you. But it would seem that most of my private life is common knowledge, and of exaggerated interest in every drawing-room and tavern. I would at least like to have the story straight in your mind before you inadvertently add to the gossip out of your own imagination—or while you're in your cups."
"I say, Alex, I'm no long-tongued chatterer telling tales about my own brother!" Peter exclaimed in a grievous tone, adding indignantly, "And I can hold my liquor as well as any man. Trevegne blood's thicker than wine anyway,"
"I beg your pardon." Alex bowed slightly. "I know that you would not say anything injurious to me on purpose—but you might be goaded to in anger ."
Peter finished off his brandy with II careless flourish of his hand, draining it to the last drop, then laughed suddenly. "Damned if I'll get in a duel over somebody else's ladybird. She may be a beauty, but I've always thought her a bit above herself. Won't even give me the time of day and hasn't got a sense of humor, either. Nor will I challenge every man in the street over some tittle-tattle at a tea-party! Should be over something more important than a windbag, eh?"
Alex threw back his head and laughed, joining Peter in his mirth, both men standing tall and proud, bearing a marked family resemblance to each other in their aristocratic faces and arrogantly tilted square jaws, their hawk-visaged features softened by their laughter. The fifteen years difference in their ages disappeared as they laughed together in boyish abandon.
Alex looked fondly at his brother's slighter figure, feeling the full weight of responsibility for Peter on his shoulders; broad shoulders that were accustomed to bearing responsibility. Watching Peter, he wondered whether he had ever been that young and carefree? Innocent of worries, and unaware of how very lonely the world really was? It seemed like an eternity since he had felt the warmth of an unselfish love surrounding him; a love that could warm like a welcoming fire on a cold night, seeming to penetrate to the very depths of one's body. He had enjoyed love these past years, but it was not the same kind of love. It was an unsatisfying love that consumed and devoured, leaving only regrets in its stead. But he had come to expect nothing else. That other type of love was something that no longer existed for him.
Lord of the Manor at fifteen, he'd been a very young and inexperienced heir to the enormous estates and holdings of the Trevegnes. Lord Denet had been his guardian, and had become a good friend while helping him bear up under his new and heavy responsibility. With the help of trusted estate agents and lawyers, he had learned to manage Westerly; proving himself a very capable young Lord of the Manor.
But it was no easy victory, and there were many battles along the way. A young and inexperienced Marquis was considered easy game by crooked estate agents who cared for nothing except to fill their own pockets, and by the supposedly close friends of his father who claimed they had been owed a debt by the deceased—nothing written, of course, just sealed with a handshake. And then there was the friendly advice from his father's friends, most of whom had young daughters and impoverished estates, who hinted at a secret agreement of a marriage contract that had been made years previously; the young Marquis' assets making him an excellent son-in-law.
But Lord Denet was nobody's fool; and armed with his staff of lawyers he managed to keep the vultures at bay until the new Marquis could stand on his own.
So the young Marquis had grown up; and hardened into iron along the way. That
"I say, Alex, I'm no long-tongued chatterer telling tales about my own brother!" Peter exclaimed in a grievous tone, adding indignantly, "And I can hold my liquor as well as any man. Trevegne blood's thicker than wine anyway,"
"I beg your pardon." Alex bowed slightly. "I know that you would not say anything injurious to me on purpose—but you might be goaded to in anger ."
Peter finished off his brandy with II careless flourish of his hand, draining it to the last drop, then laughed suddenly. "Damned if I'll get in a duel over somebody else's ladybird. She may be a beauty, but I've always thought her a bit above herself. Won't even give me the time of day and hasn't got a sense of humor, either. Nor will I challenge every man in the street over some tittle-tattle at a tea-party! Should be over something more important than a windbag, eh?"
Alex threw back his head and laughed, joining Peter in his mirth, both men standing tall and proud, bearing a marked family resemblance to each other in their aristocratic faces and arrogantly tilted square jaws, their hawk-visaged features softened by their laughter. The fifteen years difference in their ages disappeared as they laughed together in boyish abandon.
Alex looked fondly at his brother's slighter figure, feeling the full weight of responsibility for Peter on his shoulders; broad shoulders that were accustomed to bearing responsibility. Watching Peter, he wondered whether he had ever been that young and carefree? Innocent of worries, and unaware of how very lonely the world really was? It seemed like an eternity since he had felt the warmth of an unselfish love surrounding him; a love that could warm like a welcoming fire on a cold night, seeming to penetrate to the very depths of one's body. He had enjoyed love these past years, but it was not the same kind of love. It was an unsatisfying love that consumed and devoured, leaving only regrets in its stead. But he had come to expect nothing else. That other type of love was something that no longer existed for him.
Lord of the Manor at fifteen, he'd been a very young and inexperienced heir to the enormous estates and holdings of the Trevegnes. Lord Denet had been his guardian, and had become a good friend while helping him bear up under his new and heavy responsibility. With the help of trusted estate agents and lawyers, he had learned to manage Westerly; proving himself a very capable young Lord of the Manor.
But it was no easy victory, and there were many battles along the way. A young and inexperienced Marquis was considered easy game by crooked estate agents who cared for nothing except to fill their own pockets, and by the supposedly close friends of his father who claimed they had been owed a debt by the deceased—nothing written, of course, just sealed with a handshake. And then there was the friendly advice from his father's friends, most of whom had young daughters and impoverished estates, who hinted at a secret agreement of a marriage contract that had been made years previously; the young Marquis' assets making him an excellent son-in-law.
But Lord Denet was nobody's fool; and armed with his staff of lawyers he managed to keep the vultures at bay until the new Marquis could stand on his own.
So the young Marquis had grown up; and hardened into iron along the way. That
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