Read Online Her Husband's Harlot by Grace Callaway - Free Book Online
Authors: Grace Callaway
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inherited a
fortune along with the title. You hardly need the income from Fines and Co.—which,
by the way, we both know Jibotts would take to running like a pig to mud. There
is no need for you to oversee the daily operations, yet you find every excuse
to bury yourself down at the docks. Why is that?"
"You
have no idea what it takes to run Fines and Co.," Nicholas snapped. "Your
father put his life's blood into that company. He made something out of
nothing. I will not fail him."
"You
may paint my father a saint, but the man spent his life chained to the company,
to the detriment of everything else in his life. You do not have to make the
same choice."
"Jeremiah
worked so that you might have the luxuries you take for granted," Nicholas
said acidly.
"Father
worked because he did not know what else to do." Though he said the words
lightly, Paul's characteristically jovial blue eyes were shadowed over the rim
of his cup. "Because he could not stop himself, even when he knew my
mother waited until the candles gutted out for him to come home."
As
Meg returned and plunked down plates heaped high with eggs, bacon, and thick
buttered toast, Nicholas mulled over Paul's words. He had not viewed his mentor
in this light before. To him, Jeremiah had defined purpose and determination. A
man who worked hard to make his life amount to something. A man who could escape
his past by the grace of his own sweat. Yet, remembering his own moments of
restlessness, Nicholas experienced a spark of unease. Was he following in the
footsteps of folly?
He
shook his head. "Anna and Jeremiah had a fine marriage."
"My
parents loved each other, yes, each in their own fashion. When my father was
home, my mother lit up like a candle." Paul's smile was edged with
melancholy as he cut into a rasher of bacon. "It was the other times she'd
be weeping, alone in her bedchamber where she thought no one could hear."
The
image made Nicholas' chest constrict. Anna Fines was the closest to a mother
that he'd known. She'd always made a point of inviting him to supper, knowing
he had no place else to go. He felt a twinge of guilt now; he'd been so tied up
in his own affairs that he had not called upon her since his wedding. "How
is Anna faring?"
"She's
not been the same since Father passed a year ago, as you know. But she is
carrying on. My sister Percy is a great comfort to her, of course. Unlike her
one and only son." Paul chewed thoughtfully. "Mother tells me I am in
danger of becoming a wastrel."
"In danger of becoming one?" Nicholas asked, quirking a brow.
"Amusing,
is it not? She says I should talk to you. So you can beat some sense into me, I
suppose. In truth, I think she would like a call from you and your lady ..."
Paul stopped, a tinge of red appearing along his cheekbones. "Scratch that
last part."
"Worried
I'm going to pummel you into a responsible sort?"
"No,
not that part," Paul said. Under his breath, he added, "As if you could pummel me."
"Which
then?"
"The
bit about you and your lady calling. Forget I mentioned it, or Mother will have
my head."
"Why
would Anna fault you for inviting us over?" When Paul did not immediately
respond, Nicholas jested, "Is she afraid your table manners will scare
away the fine company?"
His
smile faded at Paul's silence.
"She's
not afraid of having you , of course," Paul said with obvious
discomfort. "You may be a marquess now, but you'll always be a nodcock to
us."
Nicholas
ignored the attempt at light-heartedness. "It's Helena, then. Anna objects
to her presence."
"Yes,
but not in the way you mean," Paul protested. "From her brief meeting
with Lady Helena, Mother liked your wife very much."
Nicholas
relaxed a fraction. "What is it, then?"
"Mother
has never entertained a member of the upper class before." Paul shrugged. "She
finds the prospect somewhat intimidating."
Nicholas
ate his eggs and brooded on his friend's admission. It pained him that Anna
would think such a thing. Yet, if he was honest, did
fortune along with the title. You hardly need the income from Fines and Co.—which,
by the way, we both know Jibotts would take to running like a pig to mud. There
is no need for you to oversee the daily operations, yet you find every excuse
to bury yourself down at the docks. Why is that?"
"You
have no idea what it takes to run Fines and Co.," Nicholas snapped. "Your
father put his life's blood into that company. He made something out of
nothing. I will not fail him."
"You
may paint my father a saint, but the man spent his life chained to the company,
to the detriment of everything else in his life. You do not have to make the
same choice."
"Jeremiah
worked so that you might have the luxuries you take for granted," Nicholas
said acidly.
"Father
worked because he did not know what else to do." Though he said the words
lightly, Paul's characteristically jovial blue eyes were shadowed over the rim
of his cup. "Because he could not stop himself, even when he knew my
mother waited until the candles gutted out for him to come home."
As
Meg returned and plunked down plates heaped high with eggs, bacon, and thick
buttered toast, Nicholas mulled over Paul's words. He had not viewed his mentor
in this light before. To him, Jeremiah had defined purpose and determination. A
man who worked hard to make his life amount to something. A man who could escape
his past by the grace of his own sweat. Yet, remembering his own moments of
restlessness, Nicholas experienced a spark of unease. Was he following in the
footsteps of folly?
He
shook his head. "Anna and Jeremiah had a fine marriage."
"My
parents loved each other, yes, each in their own fashion. When my father was
home, my mother lit up like a candle." Paul's smile was edged with
melancholy as he cut into a rasher of bacon. "It was the other times she'd
be weeping, alone in her bedchamber where she thought no one could hear."
The
image made Nicholas' chest constrict. Anna Fines was the closest to a mother
that he'd known. She'd always made a point of inviting him to supper, knowing
he had no place else to go. He felt a twinge of guilt now; he'd been so tied up
in his own affairs that he had not called upon her since his wedding. "How
is Anna faring?"
"She's
not been the same since Father passed a year ago, as you know. But she is
carrying on. My sister Percy is a great comfort to her, of course. Unlike her
one and only son." Paul chewed thoughtfully. "Mother tells me I am in
danger of becoming a wastrel."
"In danger of becoming one?" Nicholas asked, quirking a brow.
"Amusing,
is it not? She says I should talk to you. So you can beat some sense into me, I
suppose. In truth, I think she would like a call from you and your lady ..."
Paul stopped, a tinge of red appearing along his cheekbones. "Scratch that
last part."
"Worried
I'm going to pummel you into a responsible sort?"
"No,
not that part," Paul said. Under his breath, he added, "As if you could pummel me."
"Which
then?"
"The
bit about you and your lady calling. Forget I mentioned it, or Mother will have
my head."
"Why
would Anna fault you for inviting us over?" When Paul did not immediately
respond, Nicholas jested, "Is she afraid your table manners will scare
away the fine company?"
His
smile faded at Paul's silence.
"She's
not afraid of having you , of course," Paul said with obvious
discomfort. "You may be a marquess now, but you'll always be a nodcock to
us."
Nicholas
ignored the attempt at light-heartedness. "It's Helena, then. Anna objects
to her presence."
"Yes,
but not in the way you mean," Paul protested. "From her brief meeting
with Lady Helena, Mother liked your wife very much."
Nicholas
relaxed a fraction. "What is it, then?"
"Mother
has never entertained a member of the upper class before." Paul shrugged. "She
finds the prospect somewhat intimidating."
Nicholas
ate his eggs and brooded on his friend's admission. It pained him that Anna
would think such a thing. Yet, if he was honest, did
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