Read Online Glass Houses by Stella Cameron - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stella Cameron
Ads: Link
and afterward Winston would need to vent his opinions of “ bargain-hunting charlatans.” He might even forget to interrogate Rupert at all. “Not bloody likely,” Rupert muttered. Not given the importance of what he’d been supposed to accomplish in Hampstead.
He flexed his hands. The fine tremor that shook him would be obvious to some. Rupert didn’t care. He wanted the FitzDurham woman dead. Dead she wouldn’t be a threat anymore; there wouldn’t be a reason to wonder just what she knew and what she might do with the knowledge.
It wasn’t his fault that another female in an ugly red hat and raincoat had tricked him into thinking she was the one he wanted. Too bad that bleeding heart meddler stopped her from dying. And then he’d had to bide a little time and pay, actually pay for the negatives he had in his pocket.
Peace. No Winston. No FitzDurham. Was that so much to ask?
He couldn’t bear to remain where he could see Winston.
Soames would have been ignored all day. Winston hated the ferret, more because he belonged to Rupert than because of a supposed allergy to the animal. Rupert made to pass Win s ton, who was sweating and red-faced, and the prospective client, who was not.
“There you are,” Winston said. “Stay put, there’s a good chap. I’m almost finished here.”
The woman’s face was powdered white. Her very dark eyes darted rapidly between Winston and Rupert. “ ’Alf,” she said as if she spied some advantage in Winston’s divided attention. “I will take it with me.”
“Not possible. Forgive me, madam, but we’re closing now.” Winston moved toward the door, bowing his bald head as he went. “Do come back if you decide the piece is worth full price.”
Rather than argue, the Frenchwoman gave a delighted grin and waved as she departed, saying, “You will think about my very good offer, and I will give you another chance. Per’aps.” This was their late-opening night, and darkness had begun to seep into the street. Lights in the shop windows cast a yellow wash over items displayed there and onto the pavement outside. A strolling couple stopped to look at a Chippendale commode which they evidently found amusing.
Winston finished shooting home bolts and came toward Rupert in menacing, head-first mode. “Damn you,” he said succinctly, stretching his receding chin as far forward as that feature allowed. “Explain yourself, man. At once. Where have you been? It’s nine, for God’s sake, and not a word from you since last night.”
“You could always have done the dirty work yourself. The choice was yours.” The choice was always Winston’s, but if Rupert had his way, that was going to change before too long.
“You know, Rupert,” Winston said in the pseudo-pleasant tone that always boded ill, “no matter how long, or how hard I try to help you overcome your lower middle-class background, you defeat me. Breeding will out, isn’t that what they say? I’m not even sure a good school would have made a difference. You are a common man, progeny of a loathsome thief of very little brain.”
This was not the time to get shirty. “Whatever you say, Winston.” The toad really got his jollies from seeing he’d offended Rupert.
“I say that you have no sense of honor, and a sense of honor is the mark of a gentleman. You are not a gentleman. If you were, you would consider the man who helped you out of the gutter. Where have you been all day?”
“Making sure we’re safe.” Let the bastard toy with that. Winston ran a finger under his starched white collar. He favored tweed lounge suits and suede shoes, and smelled strongly of the cigars he smoked. Never a slim man, with age he had broadened and softened and taken on an ever more doughy appearance. How much pleasure Rupert would have on the day he told the chinless pervert exactly what he thought of him.
“I’m waiting,” Winston said.
“Did you feed Soames?”
A withering stare met Rupert’s
He flexed his hands. The fine tremor that shook him would be obvious to some. Rupert didn’t care. He wanted the FitzDurham woman dead. Dead she wouldn’t be a threat anymore; there wouldn’t be a reason to wonder just what she knew and what she might do with the knowledge.
It wasn’t his fault that another female in an ugly red hat and raincoat had tricked him into thinking she was the one he wanted. Too bad that bleeding heart meddler stopped her from dying. And then he’d had to bide a little time and pay, actually pay for the negatives he had in his pocket.
Peace. No Winston. No FitzDurham. Was that so much to ask?
He couldn’t bear to remain where he could see Winston.
Soames would have been ignored all day. Winston hated the ferret, more because he belonged to Rupert than because of a supposed allergy to the animal. Rupert made to pass Win s ton, who was sweating and red-faced, and the prospective client, who was not.
“There you are,” Winston said. “Stay put, there’s a good chap. I’m almost finished here.”
The woman’s face was powdered white. Her very dark eyes darted rapidly between Winston and Rupert. “ ’Alf,” she said as if she spied some advantage in Winston’s divided attention. “I will take it with me.”
“Not possible. Forgive me, madam, but we’re closing now.” Winston moved toward the door, bowing his bald head as he went. “Do come back if you decide the piece is worth full price.”
Rather than argue, the Frenchwoman gave a delighted grin and waved as she departed, saying, “You will think about my very good offer, and I will give you another chance. Per’aps.” This was their late-opening night, and darkness had begun to seep into the street. Lights in the shop windows cast a yellow wash over items displayed there and onto the pavement outside. A strolling couple stopped to look at a Chippendale commode which they evidently found amusing.
Winston finished shooting home bolts and came toward Rupert in menacing, head-first mode. “Damn you,” he said succinctly, stretching his receding chin as far forward as that feature allowed. “Explain yourself, man. At once. Where have you been? It’s nine, for God’s sake, and not a word from you since last night.”
“You could always have done the dirty work yourself. The choice was yours.” The choice was always Winston’s, but if Rupert had his way, that was going to change before too long.
“You know, Rupert,” Winston said in the pseudo-pleasant tone that always boded ill, “no matter how long, or how hard I try to help you overcome your lower middle-class background, you defeat me. Breeding will out, isn’t that what they say? I’m not even sure a good school would have made a difference. You are a common man, progeny of a loathsome thief of very little brain.”
This was not the time to get shirty. “Whatever you say, Winston.” The toad really got his jollies from seeing he’d offended Rupert.
“I say that you have no sense of honor, and a sense of honor is the mark of a gentleman. You are not a gentleman. If you were, you would consider the man who helped you out of the gutter. Where have you been all day?”
“Making sure we’re safe.” Let the bastard toy with that. Winston ran a finger under his starched white collar. He favored tweed lounge suits and suede shoes, and smelled strongly of the cigars he smoked. Never a slim man, with age he had broadened and softened and taken on an ever more doughy appearance. How much pleasure Rupert would have on the day he told the chinless pervert exactly what he thought of him.
“I’m waiting,” Winston said.
“Did you feed Soames?”
A withering stare met Rupert’s
Similar Books
