Read Online Night of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle - Free Book Online Page A

reading toward the glass window in an effort to get better light despite the dark sky. He turned the page and kept reading, squinting at the text.
    “You shouldn’t read with so little light,” she commented.
    “Don’t nag me, dear.” He attempted to lessen his squint by holding the book further away from himself. He angled his head and squinted all the same.
    She lowered her chin. “If I didn’t nag you, you wouldn’t have any eyes left in your head. Where are the reading glasses I bought for you?”
    “Tine, I’m far too young for reading glasses. I’m only fifty-two.” He kept reading.
    He was such a child. He always had been. By all accounts, he really shouldn’t have been allowed to raise a daughter. He consumed more cognac than any human ought to gulp and shared all of his cheroots with her as if they were bonbons. Even worse, his political alliances with unpopular men he financially supported usually resulted in someone wanting them dead.
    Another crack of thunder made her jump.
    He lifted his gaze, revealing sharp blue eyes. “Are you all right?”
    She let out an exasperated breath. “Yes. I’m fine.” Annoyingly, thunderstorms reminded her of angry mobs. And in particular, one stormy night three years ago when a group of riled men had broken into their home and tried to smash everything after her father supported a Catholic man who had been elected mayor. It was the first time she’d ever fired a pistol. And the last. She wasn’t very good at aiming and had shot holes into everything but the men destroying her home. She had far better luck using vases against their heads. “Thunderstorms unnerve me, is all.”
    He slapped his book shut and set it on the upholstered seat beside him. “I imagine seeing Banfield again is what really unnerves you.”
    That much was true. She had been writing letters to Banfield since she was fourteen, after she had left England to go back to New York back in ’23. And with every passionate letter he wrote, she couldn’t help but linger on the memory of an overly-flirtatious young man with playful brown eyes who, from their first meeting, seemed wildly intent and overly eager to make her his to the point of sending her into a panic. Whilst his letters had proven to reflect that he had matured and grown into an intelligent man, he simply expected too much. She repeatedly tried to tame him over the years through letters by getting him used to the idea that they were merely companions assigned to a lifelong duty (which she planned to abandon) but it only resulted in him stubbornly signing all of his letters with ‘ My whole heart goes out to fetch you ’. Unlike him, she wasn’t one to gush about her emotions. In her eyes, such uncontained passion led to very bad things. She only hoped Banfield was prepared to accept the truth she was set to deliver: they weren’t getting married.
    Her father sat up, dug into his coat pocket and removed the silver casing holding his cheroots. Snapping it open, he held the case out. “Did you want one?”
    She stared at it, wanting to say yes, but promised herself she wouldn’t. She’d grown a bit too dependent on the habit and as a result, smoked every time something bothered her. Which pushed her through a lot of cheroots. “No, thank you. I shouldn’t.”
    Her father slid one out. Sticking it into the corner of his mouth, he shoved the silver casing back into his pocket and dug out a flint and a match. Striking the match, he cupped the flame to the end of his cheroot and puffed. “All of the wedding arrangements have already long been taken care of by Banfield and his mother. From my understanding, you’ll be getting married this upcoming Monday.”
    She sat up. “ What ?”
    He chuckled. “No need to panic. We will manage. Banfield got ahead of himself in planning everything. We were supposed to arrive earlier in the month and the boy was overly excited. Let him be. I find it charming.”
    What was so charming about a