Read Online Lessons of Desire by Madeline Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Madeline Hunter
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it true? He and his brothers had concluded the lover had been real, but not the imprisonment part. His own father had sworn to him that he did not do what people said. And yet his mother's exile encouraged the gossip, until she herself even believed it.
He saw her in the library, her dark head bent to books and papers, lost in the world of her mind. Almost totally lost to her sons. As the youngest he spent the most time with her there. She would emerge from her concentration sometimes to guide him through the shelves, picking books for him lo read, or commenting on his own pages.
A few times, however, the bond had been closer, like the day she had received a letter that left her weeping. It contained news about an army officer's death.
He did this. To punish me for loving someone else.
It had been an illicit love. She had been an adulteress. Her sorrow moved him anyway, but he had seen that her accusation was the dark fantasy of an unhappy soul.
He felt Miss Blair beside him. Even his anger could not kill the way he responded to her sensual lure. Her father's damned memoirs insinuated that a reclusive woman had been the only one who understood just how ruthless the Rothwell blood could make a man. His own certainty that it was untrue would not carry any weight when his father's name was impugned.
"They knew each other" Miss Blair said. "Our mothers."
"My mother was familiar with Artemis Blair's essays, but she never spoke of a friendship." But then, she had rarely spoken about anything.
"I do not believe they ever met. They corresponded. They were both writers, after all. Their interests were similar. Your mother sent mine a poem once. It was among her papers on her death. A beautiful poem that reflected an intelligent and sensitive soul."
He fixed his gaze on the approaching coastal town of Sorrento. It infuriated him that his mother had shared her writing with Artemis Blair and not her own children.
"Did your mother encourage her in her adultery?" His words sounded hoarse and harsh to his ears. "Did she preach her belief in free love in her letters?" He pictured the radical, renowned Artemis Blair turning his mother's head in ways that would result in so much grief.
"I believe they corresponded about literature and such. My mother only mentioned her once, upon news of her passing."
"What did she say?" It came out more a snarl than a question.
"She said. He should have let her go, bur of course, being a man, he could not."
That only made thunder rumble through the clouds in his mind. He wanted to say of course a man cannot allow the mother of his children to leave on a romantic whim. Of course his father had refused her that freedom.
Only she had found a way to leave anyway, in her own manner.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a crew member taking too long with some rigging. The man dallied at his chore while he feasted his eyes on the beauty of Phaedra Blair.
The storm in his head howled. Lightning flashed. He narrowed his eyes and spoke four words. The man hurried away.
Miss Blair noticed. "What did you say to him?"
"Nothing significant. A simple Neapolitan phrase that requests privacy." He did not bother explaining that the words roughly translated to move on or die.
A snapping wind helped them make good time. The landscape became increasingly dramatic as they angled across the bay to the Sorrento peninsula. High hills hugged the coast, dropping down to the sea in steep, green drops. Small beaches held some boats, and houses hugged the cliff, hanging like so many white and pastel cubes above the water.
They rounded the tip of the small peninsula, passed the isle of Capri, and sailed into the Bay of Salerno. Steeper, perilous, inaccessible hills loomed above them. The scenery awed Phaedra. Lord Elliot had been correct. It would have been a pity to miss this.
"What is happening up there?" She pointed to some activity halfway up the cliff side.
"The king is building a road to Amalfi. They are
He saw her in the library, her dark head bent to books and papers, lost in the world of her mind. Almost totally lost to her sons. As the youngest he spent the most time with her there. She would emerge from her concentration sometimes to guide him through the shelves, picking books for him lo read, or commenting on his own pages.
A few times, however, the bond had been closer, like the day she had received a letter that left her weeping. It contained news about an army officer's death.
He did this. To punish me for loving someone else.
It had been an illicit love. She had been an adulteress. Her sorrow moved him anyway, but he had seen that her accusation was the dark fantasy of an unhappy soul.
He felt Miss Blair beside him. Even his anger could not kill the way he responded to her sensual lure. Her father's damned memoirs insinuated that a reclusive woman had been the only one who understood just how ruthless the Rothwell blood could make a man. His own certainty that it was untrue would not carry any weight when his father's name was impugned.
"They knew each other" Miss Blair said. "Our mothers."
"My mother was familiar with Artemis Blair's essays, but she never spoke of a friendship." But then, she had rarely spoken about anything.
"I do not believe they ever met. They corresponded. They were both writers, after all. Their interests were similar. Your mother sent mine a poem once. It was among her papers on her death. A beautiful poem that reflected an intelligent and sensitive soul."
He fixed his gaze on the approaching coastal town of Sorrento. It infuriated him that his mother had shared her writing with Artemis Blair and not her own children.
"Did your mother encourage her in her adultery?" His words sounded hoarse and harsh to his ears. "Did she preach her belief in free love in her letters?" He pictured the radical, renowned Artemis Blair turning his mother's head in ways that would result in so much grief.
"I believe they corresponded about literature and such. My mother only mentioned her once, upon news of her passing."
"What did she say?" It came out more a snarl than a question.
"She said. He should have let her go, bur of course, being a man, he could not."
That only made thunder rumble through the clouds in his mind. He wanted to say of course a man cannot allow the mother of his children to leave on a romantic whim. Of course his father had refused her that freedom.
Only she had found a way to leave anyway, in her own manner.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a crew member taking too long with some rigging. The man dallied at his chore while he feasted his eyes on the beauty of Phaedra Blair.
The storm in his head howled. Lightning flashed. He narrowed his eyes and spoke four words. The man hurried away.
Miss Blair noticed. "What did you say to him?"
"Nothing significant. A simple Neapolitan phrase that requests privacy." He did not bother explaining that the words roughly translated to move on or die.
A snapping wind helped them make good time. The landscape became increasingly dramatic as they angled across the bay to the Sorrento peninsula. High hills hugged the coast, dropping down to the sea in steep, green drops. Small beaches held some boats, and houses hugged the cliff, hanging like so many white and pastel cubes above the water.
They rounded the tip of the small peninsula, passed the isle of Capri, and sailed into the Bay of Salerno. Steeper, perilous, inaccessible hills loomed above them. The scenery awed Phaedra. Lord Elliot had been correct. It would have been a pity to miss this.
"What is happening up there?" She pointed to some activity halfway up the cliff side.
"The king is building a road to Amalfi. They are
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