Read Online Melinda Hammond by The Dream Chasers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: The Dream Chasers
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frozen into a tableau before the cat realized that its adversary was no longer fettered, and took off along the street with the spaniel in close pursuit.
‘Snuffles!’ cried Eustacia, but she knew enough about dogs to be sure he would ignore her. She watched in horror as the animals raced towards St James’s Street, then, with only the smallest hesitation, she picked up her skirts and hurried after them.
* * * *
Mr Lagallan attributed his habit of rising at an unfashionably early hour to his years adventuring on the Continent. Unable to lie in his bed while his valet brought him coffee or hot chocolate, and then waste another languid hour deciding upon which coat to put on, Vivyan preferred to fill his mornings with physical pursuits such as boxing or fencing. Having spent a profitable hour at small-sword practice with Viscount Denny, the two gentlemen put on their coats and set off from the discreet little duelling-school in King Street to walk to the viscount’s lodgings off Piccadilly, where they planned to break their fast. They made their way at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine and discussing plans for the coming day.
‘Going to look at Grisham’s carriage-horses later,’ drawled the viscount, polishing his eyeglass. ‘Poor devil’s quite done up, you know. Lost everything, apparently, and is selling all his cattle.’
‘Is he, by Gad? Carriages, too? Then I’ve a mind to come along with you, Denny, for he has a very pretty perch-phaeton that would suit me very well.’
The viscount frowned at him.
‘Are you sure it’s just the phaeton that interests you? I tell you to your head, Viv, I ain’t taking you along with me if you are going to bid for his match-bays! I’ve had my eye on that team for ever, and I’m dashed if I’ll let you steal a march on me!’
‘No, no, Denny,’ said Vivyan, his soothing tones at variance with the gleam in his dark eyes. ‘I may cast an eye over the horseflesh, but I’ve more than enough cattle already eating their heads off in my stables.’
‘Dashed if I know why I put up with you,’ grumbled the viscount, not at all reassured. ‘You’ll take a fancy to those bays and outbid me, I know it. And I haven’t forgiven you yet for that trick you played me this morning!’ he added, with a darkling look at his companion. ‘Knocking the blade out of my hand — damned ungentlemanly of you!’
Vivyan laughed and took his friend’s arm as they crossed into St James’s Street. ‘Denny, you know you were trying to do the same to me. The maestro had just shown us the trick.’
‘Aye, only you already knew it!’ declared my lord, grinning in spite of himself.
‘Well, you will learn it in time. It takes practice. The secret is in the wrist action. I was taught a similar trick by a fencing master in Orleans.’
‘Ah, yes. France.’ The viscount shook his head. ‘You have a sadly chequered past, my friend.’
‘I prefer to call it colourful, Denny. Merely colourful.’
The viscount had stopped, and now raised his quizzing-glass.
‘As colourful as the stockings adorning those astonishingly pretty ankles across the way?’ he drawled.
Vivyan looked up in time to see a small figure in a dark-green pelisse running along the opposite flagway, red hair streaming behind her and skirts held up to display her scarlet stockings.
* * * *
Eustacia sped on, oblivious to the stares and catcalls that followed her progress. The wind had caught the wide brim of her bonnet and tugged it free of her head, so that it now bounced playfully at her back as she ran. Ahead of her, the ginger cat darted round a corner with Snuffles almost snapping at its tail. Eustacia reached the turning in time to see Snuffles disappearing into one of the alleys that criss-crossed the area behind the fashionable buildings which fronted St James’s Street. She hurried on, peering into each alley and calling to the spaniel. When she heard a bark, she knew she was closing in on her
‘Snuffles!’ cried Eustacia, but she knew enough about dogs to be sure he would ignore her. She watched in horror as the animals raced towards St James’s Street, then, with only the smallest hesitation, she picked up her skirts and hurried after them.
* * * *
Mr Lagallan attributed his habit of rising at an unfashionably early hour to his years adventuring on the Continent. Unable to lie in his bed while his valet brought him coffee or hot chocolate, and then waste another languid hour deciding upon which coat to put on, Vivyan preferred to fill his mornings with physical pursuits such as boxing or fencing. Having spent a profitable hour at small-sword practice with Viscount Denny, the two gentlemen put on their coats and set off from the discreet little duelling-school in King Street to walk to the viscount’s lodgings off Piccadilly, where they planned to break their fast. They made their way at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine and discussing plans for the coming day.
‘Going to look at Grisham’s carriage-horses later,’ drawled the viscount, polishing his eyeglass. ‘Poor devil’s quite done up, you know. Lost everything, apparently, and is selling all his cattle.’
‘Is he, by Gad? Carriages, too? Then I’ve a mind to come along with you, Denny, for he has a very pretty perch-phaeton that would suit me very well.’
The viscount frowned at him.
‘Are you sure it’s just the phaeton that interests you? I tell you to your head, Viv, I ain’t taking you along with me if you are going to bid for his match-bays! I’ve had my eye on that team for ever, and I’m dashed if I’ll let you steal a march on me!’
‘No, no, Denny,’ said Vivyan, his soothing tones at variance with the gleam in his dark eyes. ‘I may cast an eye over the horseflesh, but I’ve more than enough cattle already eating their heads off in my stables.’
‘Dashed if I know why I put up with you,’ grumbled the viscount, not at all reassured. ‘You’ll take a fancy to those bays and outbid me, I know it. And I haven’t forgiven you yet for that trick you played me this morning!’ he added, with a darkling look at his companion. ‘Knocking the blade out of my hand — damned ungentlemanly of you!’
Vivyan laughed and took his friend’s arm as they crossed into St James’s Street. ‘Denny, you know you were trying to do the same to me. The maestro had just shown us the trick.’
‘Aye, only you already knew it!’ declared my lord, grinning in spite of himself.
‘Well, you will learn it in time. It takes practice. The secret is in the wrist action. I was taught a similar trick by a fencing master in Orleans.’
‘Ah, yes. France.’ The viscount shook his head. ‘You have a sadly chequered past, my friend.’
‘I prefer to call it colourful, Denny. Merely colourful.’
The viscount had stopped, and now raised his quizzing-glass.
‘As colourful as the stockings adorning those astonishingly pretty ankles across the way?’ he drawled.
Vivyan looked up in time to see a small figure in a dark-green pelisse running along the opposite flagway, red hair streaming behind her and skirts held up to display her scarlet stockings.
* * * *
Eustacia sped on, oblivious to the stares and catcalls that followed her progress. The wind had caught the wide brim of her bonnet and tugged it free of her head, so that it now bounced playfully at her back as she ran. Ahead of her, the ginger cat darted round a corner with Snuffles almost snapping at its tail. Eustacia reached the turning in time to see Snuffles disappearing into one of the alleys that criss-crossed the area behind the fashionable buildings which fronted St James’s Street. She hurried on, peering into each alley and calling to the spaniel. When she heard a bark, she knew she was closing in on her
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