Read Online Give All to Love by Patricia Veryan - Free Book Online Page B

gutter-bred.”
    The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he was gasping as his neckcloth was seized in a grip of steel. An enraged glare scorched at his startled face; a deadly voice hissed, “Damn your eyes! Do not dare so name her!”
    Lyon’s powerful hand closed around the fine-boned wrist, but even his youthful might could not loosen that grip. The neckcloth was strangling him. “Dev!” he gasped out. “For the love—of heaven!”
    With a smothered curse, Devenish relaxed his hold and turned away.
    Grasping his throat, Lyon said unsteadily, “That leaves little doubt of my hopes … does it not! Good day—to you, sir!” Shaking with fury, he prepared to mount up.
    An urgent hand gripped his arm. Whipping back one fist, prepared for battle, he was confronted by a remorseful smile. Devenish said humbly, “My poor fellow. Please accept my apologies. I’d no intent— It was just the thought of Fontaine, daring to— Lyon—forgive. Please! You must know that if she should choose you, I’d never stand in your way.”
    The dark face lit up. Lyon gave a whoop. Devenish was seized and whirled around. Laughing, he cried, “Desist, you blasted madman!”
    Lyon obliged, and they walked on, side by side, leading the horses. Elated, Lyon cried, “What a day this has been! Dev—when may I speak to her? I know you believe her to be sixteen, though I’ve often thought—”
    â€œYes. Many others have thought the same. It seems—that I was mistaken.” With an effort, he added, “By—by two years, at least, probably.”
    Halting, staring at him, Lyon gasped, “Two … Then—then she would be eighteen? My God! Dev—do you mean it? You know that means—”
    â€œThat you had better choose your moment carefully, you great oaf. The fact I allow it does not mean you’ve won her, you—” He was interrupted for another outburst of wild exuberance, so that it was some moments before Lyon was sufficiently calm to be able to ask, “Will you tell me now what you have against Elliot Fontaine?”
    Devenish’s face clouded. He said grittily, “Nothing I can speak of, for I’ve no proof. I take it you find him unexceptionable.”
    â€œI’ve met him only a time or two, but he’s always been pleasant. More pleasant than many.”
    â€œOh, he’s pleasant—damn him!”
    Lyon eyed him askance. “This wouldn’t be one of your clairvoyant starts?”
    Devenish growled, fumed, but finally said irritably, “To an extent. I cannot abide the man! There’s that about him makes my skin creep.” He knew Lyon was staring at him, and went on impatiently, “Oh, I know it sounds mad, but there it is. As for your being shunned—I’d hoped it would be better when Guy moved here from Sussex. Has it not improved at all?”
    â€œAt first it was better. Now it’s worse. I suppose the word is spreading. Lord knows how Wellington ever thought to keep the business quiet. The whispers are becoming louder, but all people seem to know for certain is that Claude plotted against the crown. They don’t know how damnably close he came to murdering the Regent and wrecking the whole country. If that ever becomes public knowledge”—he shook his head, troubled—“they’ll likely take my poor guv’nor out and lynch him!”
    â€œThey might, at that. And there’d be precious little use trying to explain to a mindless mob that Guy was crippled because he opposed his brother.”
    After another pause during which each man was occupied with inner forebodings, Devenish asked, “How does Guy go on, by the way?”
    â€œWhat a gudgeon I am!” His face bright again, Lyon said, “He can walk with only one crutch now, Dev! I was never so pleased!”
    â€œI can well imagine! How splendid!