Read Online My Notorious Gentleman by Gaelen Foley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gaelen Foley
Tags: Romance
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something, he thought, looking around, hands planted on his waist.
He was not the most spontaneous man in the world, but he was tempted to buy the place now rather than taking his usual course of mulling it over for the requisite few days.
Aye, why not? The simple life, the country quiet, would probably do him good. Out here, so far from watchful eyes and the unwanted burden of his ridiculous new celebrity, all the people who wanted a piece of him might eventually forget that he existed.
An ideal haven for a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
Perhaps in this peaceful place he could escape what he had become in the course of his service, for he was not proud of everything the Order had made of him.
That was why their sudden fame was so intolerable to him. He felt exposed. He had been so careful all these years to keep certain darker aspects of himself politely hidden from the world at large. Laura. His family. Society. His father’s friends at White’s.
Only his Order brothers really knew him.
But here in the middle of nowhere, he could simply be himself, with no one looking on to bother him. No one getting too close. And then perhaps all the raw places in his battered soul could begin to heal up from the wear and tear of a long, bloody war.
Eventually, with some room to breathe, he might even figure out who the hell he was going to be now that he was no longer bound to his duty as a trained killer and a spy.
Rebuilding the ramshackle old farm might take a few years, and it would be a serious commitment of time, gold, and effort. Nevertheless, Trevor had a feeling that a project of this magnitude was probably just what he needed.
A worthy challenge.
The price for the Grange was still too high for all the work it needed, but he could always sell it again after he had finished fixing it up. He had never worked on an antique building before. It presented a whole new array of interesting problems, this business of renovating.
The house he’d built for Laura had been all new construction. He winced at the still-fresh memory of selling it, which he had done in a state of cold rage. At any rate, the money from the sale had just reached his account, so he could buy the Grange whenever he decided.
Damn. He shook his head, still dismayed over the loss of the dream house perhaps even more than by the loss of his anticipated marriage.
That house had been his baby.
It was as different from the Grange as an old, rugged, hay wagon was from a fast, new, sleekly polished curricle.
He had drafted the architectural plans himself for the spectacular white mansion where he had intended to live with his dazzling blond bride and raise their perfect children.
In hindsight, he wondered if he had confused his love for the process of creating something out of nothing with his feelings for the woman who was to have shared it with him. When he had heard the news about her change of plans, he had been half-tempted to burn it down in his fury.
Oh, the irony of it all.
Just when he and the dream house were finally ready to deal with the prospect of actually marrying her, making the dream a reality, as it were, she had given him up for dead and moved on with the Major.
Trevor sighed. He had put his heart and soul into the building. But now it, too, was gone.
Scarcely able to bear walking through its empty marble halls, he had sold the white mansion to a very rich, ambitious merchant. He had set the price low just to get rid of it quickly, only recouping the losses of every expensive detail he had lovingly had installed. The chessboard floors of the marble entrance hall. The oak wainscoting. The plastered ceilings hand-painted by the Italians he had personally chosen in Florence.
Gone.
“Do you have any questions, my lord?” the land agent asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“It’d be a bit of a challenge transporting the building materials out here,” he said skeptically as he strolled outside again.
The land
He was not the most spontaneous man in the world, but he was tempted to buy the place now rather than taking his usual course of mulling it over for the requisite few days.
Aye, why not? The simple life, the country quiet, would probably do him good. Out here, so far from watchful eyes and the unwanted burden of his ridiculous new celebrity, all the people who wanted a piece of him might eventually forget that he existed.
An ideal haven for a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
Perhaps in this peaceful place he could escape what he had become in the course of his service, for he was not proud of everything the Order had made of him.
That was why their sudden fame was so intolerable to him. He felt exposed. He had been so careful all these years to keep certain darker aspects of himself politely hidden from the world at large. Laura. His family. Society. His father’s friends at White’s.
Only his Order brothers really knew him.
But here in the middle of nowhere, he could simply be himself, with no one looking on to bother him. No one getting too close. And then perhaps all the raw places in his battered soul could begin to heal up from the wear and tear of a long, bloody war.
Eventually, with some room to breathe, he might even figure out who the hell he was going to be now that he was no longer bound to his duty as a trained killer and a spy.
Rebuilding the ramshackle old farm might take a few years, and it would be a serious commitment of time, gold, and effort. Nevertheless, Trevor had a feeling that a project of this magnitude was probably just what he needed.
A worthy challenge.
The price for the Grange was still too high for all the work it needed, but he could always sell it again after he had finished fixing it up. He had never worked on an antique building before. It presented a whole new array of interesting problems, this business of renovating.
The house he’d built for Laura had been all new construction. He winced at the still-fresh memory of selling it, which he had done in a state of cold rage. At any rate, the money from the sale had just reached his account, so he could buy the Grange whenever he decided.
Damn. He shook his head, still dismayed over the loss of the dream house perhaps even more than by the loss of his anticipated marriage.
That house had been his baby.
It was as different from the Grange as an old, rugged, hay wagon was from a fast, new, sleekly polished curricle.
He had drafted the architectural plans himself for the spectacular white mansion where he had intended to live with his dazzling blond bride and raise their perfect children.
In hindsight, he wondered if he had confused his love for the process of creating something out of nothing with his feelings for the woman who was to have shared it with him. When he had heard the news about her change of plans, he had been half-tempted to burn it down in his fury.
Oh, the irony of it all.
Just when he and the dream house were finally ready to deal with the prospect of actually marrying her, making the dream a reality, as it were, she had given him up for dead and moved on with the Major.
Trevor sighed. He had put his heart and soul into the building. But now it, too, was gone.
Scarcely able to bear walking through its empty marble halls, he had sold the white mansion to a very rich, ambitious merchant. He had set the price low just to get rid of it quickly, only recouping the losses of every expensive detail he had lovingly had installed. The chessboard floors of the marble entrance hall. The oak wainscoting. The plastered ceilings hand-painted by the Italians he had personally chosen in Florence.
Gone.
“Do you have any questions, my lord?” the land agent asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“It’d be a bit of a challenge transporting the building materials out here,” he said skeptically as he strolled outside again.
The land
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