Read Online Entwined by Kristen Callihan - Free Book Online Page B

bad thing, sir?”
    “It’s his! Not mine.” Eamon ran a hand over his now-aching brow. “Father was quite clear on that.” It did not sit right with Eamon that Aidan had just given him the lion’s share of the Evernight funds.
    George, however, looked at Eamon as if he were cracked. “Master Aidan was always of the mind that the estate was yours to share. It appears he’s finally done something about it. And not a moment too soon, now that you have Mrs. Evernight to care for.”
    Eamon sighed. In truth, he wanted his brother back. This news felt ominous, as if Aidan would never return. And as thankful as Eamon was for the money, he did not want it in exchange for never seeing Aidan again.
    Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eamon asked, “What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”
    “Young Sean went into town this morning. It appears there is a man asking questions about you and Mrs. Evernight.”
    It took Eamon a moment to realize that George was referring to Lu. God, she was his wife. His.
    “What sort of questions?”
    “If anyone had seen her in the flesh. About the details of your wedding.”
    Eamon’s hands fisted. “Odd.” And disconcerting. Did they seek to sully Lu’s name now that she’d married him? And why? He’d kept to himself, hadn’t he? Why bother her? The thought of his supplier escaping the other night made Eamon’s gut go cold. Had someone found out what they’d been up to?
    “The man’s a Londoner,” George continued. “People are thinking he’s a reporter or some such gossip hound, so they’ve been tight-lipped for the most part.”
    Eamon’s voice was surprisingly even when he spoke. “Does Sean know where this fellow is now?” Because Eamon was going to have a nice chat with him.
    George’s smile was slightly evil, as if he too were picturing how Eamon would be communicating his displeasure. “He’s camped out at the Red Lion.”
    * * *
    Whoever had been asking after Lu was not in the Red Lion. Eamon recognized this with one glance. The sad little room held only a few patrons, local men who went there to drink away their cares.
    The moment he stepped into the tavern, all conversation ceased. He could hear old Shaughnessy’s stomach gurgle from the far side of the room as he slowly walked to the bar. Eamon had never been friends with these men, who watched him as if he were the devil incarnate. Nor did he want to. He’d decided long ago that those who would judge him based on appearance or rumor were not people he wanted to be acquainted with.
    Finley, the tavern owner, eyed him with open suspicion as he stopped before him. The man made an ineffectual swipe over the greasy bar with his rag. “I reckon you’re here about the gall who was asking after your lady.”
    Not a difficult guess. Eamon couldn’t fathom any other reason for being there.
    Finley tossed the rag aside. “He ain’t here.”
    Eamon’s fist curled with the urge to punch something. Or someone. “When did he leave?”
    “An hour’s past.” Finley’s small eyes narrowed, the wrinkles about them deepening. “Felicitations, Master Eamon, on your nuptials. ’Twas a great surprise to us simple townsfolk.”
    At his elbow, Danny, the local furrier, snorted. “Considering she was your brother’s fiancée, I’d say she was surprised as well.”
    Eamon turned and stared. Hard. Danny looked away first, hunkering down in his seat before muttering a weak, “Felicitations on your marriage.”
    But the seeds of dissent had started. And a grumble went through the bar.
    “An’ I heard he had to pay a bride-price for the privilege.” Dougal’s stage whisper carried as intended. Eamon knew Dougal well. They were of an age. When Eamon had been twelve and scrawny, the farmer’s son had pummeled Eamon until his father found him, face first in a pile of horseshit.
    Father had taken one look at him as Dougal ran off and sneered in disgust. Beaten down by a pauper. What a shining example you make for