Read Online Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right by Kieran Kramer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kieran Kramer
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of your being is a silent mourning. For me it has never gone away. Learn from my story, Nicholas, so that you may have a modicum of peace.”
And so Nicholas knew he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—abandon Frank the way Uncle Tradd had abandoned his own father.
Just in case Frank needed him.
But once a year Nicholas would sit him backward on a horse and make it go—Frank would never know the time or place, but God, it brought Nicholas such joy, such unbridled delight, to see his brother bobbing madly on that horse, yelling for help. Nicholas deserved that, didn’t he? After all, the other 364 days of the year, Frank brought him nothing but misery.
Oh, and he called him Frank the Farter every once in a while. But that’s because Frank called him Nick the Nutsack.
That’s what brothers did.
“I could do so much worse, Father,” Nicholas said to a passing cloud.
So much worse.
He was practically a saint.
CHAPTER 10
Poppy had been caught. She was officially betrothed. Her engagement to the Duke of Drummond had made it into the morning papers. Every ounce of her being protested because it was so obvious—
I should be marrying Prince Sergei.
Dumbfounded, she cast the paper aside. She’d always been able to wrangle out of an engagement.
Until now.
Last night she’d slept so poorly that she’d given up when the moon was still high in the sky and sat at her window, listening to the sounds of London and taking sips from a restoring punch Aunt Charlotte had left outside her door.
Oh, who was she fooling? She’d taken no sips. She’d downed the entire thing in twenty minutes and gotten sodden drunk, flung open her windows, and yelled into the night, “Damn you, Drummond! Damn you to bloody hell!” at least twice before her father himself strode into her room and locked the window.
Now in Lord Derby’s drawing room, she sat with her two best friends, both of whom wouldn’t quite look her in the eye.
She was rather wincing at them herself. That cursed punch, after all.
“I can’t believe you two were grinning when he proposed,” Poppy said, treading lightly because of her poor head, but attempting to pace in front of the fireplace. “Aunt Charlotte, too. She explained it away by claiming stomach pains.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Eleanor replied, her head low. “You two looked adorable . It must have been the light. The candles put a certain glow on you that was, um, a bit magical.”
Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t know what came over me, either. In that moment, when he kissed you, it was as if all the fairy tales came true. And then I became sensible again. I realized he’d … he’d forced you into a metaphorical—and actual—corner.”
Beatrice was a stickler for details.
“As for the metaphorical corner, you had no idea it existed!” Eleanor huffed. “Who ever knew the Duke of Drummond wasn’t a legend?”
“Exactly.” Poppy threw up her hands. “He battles large sea monsters. He’s crazy, murderous, wicked, and—”
She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him to distraction.
She licked her lips and bit the inside of her cheek. She was in a nightmare. And she only wanted to wake up.
“Don’t worry,” Beatrice reassured her. “Despite the awful announcement in the newspaper, we members of the Spinsters Club will help you out of this somehow.”
“We know if you choose anyone to marry, it will be Sergei,” Eleanor added stoutly.
“But how?” Poppy said. “How can I possibly save myself?”
“Paris is out.” Aunt Charlotte popped into the room, and took the best seat by ordering Eleanor cheerfully out of it. “Your father caught on. He’s paid all the servants extra wages to report to him any havey-cavey packing of suitcases. In fact, we no longer have trunks of any kind. He’s donated them to charity. He’s confiscated our pin money, too, and even put all our jewels in his safe. We have to ask to use them when we go out, and we’ll be escorted by footmen
And so Nicholas knew he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—abandon Frank the way Uncle Tradd had abandoned his own father.
Just in case Frank needed him.
But once a year Nicholas would sit him backward on a horse and make it go—Frank would never know the time or place, but God, it brought Nicholas such joy, such unbridled delight, to see his brother bobbing madly on that horse, yelling for help. Nicholas deserved that, didn’t he? After all, the other 364 days of the year, Frank brought him nothing but misery.
Oh, and he called him Frank the Farter every once in a while. But that’s because Frank called him Nick the Nutsack.
That’s what brothers did.
“I could do so much worse, Father,” Nicholas said to a passing cloud.
So much worse.
He was practically a saint.
CHAPTER 10
Poppy had been caught. She was officially betrothed. Her engagement to the Duke of Drummond had made it into the morning papers. Every ounce of her being protested because it was so obvious—
I should be marrying Prince Sergei.
Dumbfounded, she cast the paper aside. She’d always been able to wrangle out of an engagement.
Until now.
Last night she’d slept so poorly that she’d given up when the moon was still high in the sky and sat at her window, listening to the sounds of London and taking sips from a restoring punch Aunt Charlotte had left outside her door.
Oh, who was she fooling? She’d taken no sips. She’d downed the entire thing in twenty minutes and gotten sodden drunk, flung open her windows, and yelled into the night, “Damn you, Drummond! Damn you to bloody hell!” at least twice before her father himself strode into her room and locked the window.
Now in Lord Derby’s drawing room, she sat with her two best friends, both of whom wouldn’t quite look her in the eye.
She was rather wincing at them herself. That cursed punch, after all.
“I can’t believe you two were grinning when he proposed,” Poppy said, treading lightly because of her poor head, but attempting to pace in front of the fireplace. “Aunt Charlotte, too. She explained it away by claiming stomach pains.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Eleanor replied, her head low. “You two looked adorable . It must have been the light. The candles put a certain glow on you that was, um, a bit magical.”
Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t know what came over me, either. In that moment, when he kissed you, it was as if all the fairy tales came true. And then I became sensible again. I realized he’d … he’d forced you into a metaphorical—and actual—corner.”
Beatrice was a stickler for details.
“As for the metaphorical corner, you had no idea it existed!” Eleanor huffed. “Who ever knew the Duke of Drummond wasn’t a legend?”
“Exactly.” Poppy threw up her hands. “He battles large sea monsters. He’s crazy, murderous, wicked, and—”
She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him to distraction.
She licked her lips and bit the inside of her cheek. She was in a nightmare. And she only wanted to wake up.
“Don’t worry,” Beatrice reassured her. “Despite the awful announcement in the newspaper, we members of the Spinsters Club will help you out of this somehow.”
“We know if you choose anyone to marry, it will be Sergei,” Eleanor added stoutly.
“But how?” Poppy said. “How can I possibly save myself?”
“Paris is out.” Aunt Charlotte popped into the room, and took the best seat by ordering Eleanor cheerfully out of it. “Your father caught on. He’s paid all the servants extra wages to report to him any havey-cavey packing of suitcases. In fact, we no longer have trunks of any kind. He’s donated them to charity. He’s confiscated our pin money, too, and even put all our jewels in his safe. We have to ask to use them when we go out, and we’ll be escorted by footmen
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