Read Online One Night of Passion by Elizabeth Boyle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
Ads: Link
blocked by a trio of men, all in naval uniforms.
Oh, these three might be wearing the gold-trimmed and decorated uniforms of officers, but the voracious and hungry light in their eyes told her they were no different from the rabble of shore-hungry common sailors who flooded the docks of Penzance with every incoming tide.
Instinctively she stepped closer to Colin.
Colin. She liked the sound of it as well as the security of standing in his shadow.
“What do you want, Brummit?” Colin asked the large man who’d come forward.
“To see you swing like a dog,” the man said, the drab on his arm laughing in a shrill, high-pitched titter, her sagging jowls wavering with the movement.
Georgie understood now why Lady Finch had warned her about the hard life of a fallen lady. The pair with these gentlemen looked as if they had traveled every ruined mile on their hands and knees.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Captain,” Colin said. “But I had other plans.”
The second one stepped forward. He was the shortest of the three, but Georgie thought just as deadly from his beady gaze and taut stance. Like a terrier searching out a rat.
“So the ever perfect and sanctimonious Romulus still thinks he’s better than us. But I suppose we must pity you since this is all you can afford now,” he said with an insolent sneer toward Georgie.
Whatever she was, Georgie was of no mind to be referred to as this, as if she were some sort of refuse rotting in the gutter. She started forward, about to open her mouth and speak her mind, when she felt Colin’s hand, the one covering hers, tighten, warning her to stand down.
This isn’t your fight.
“Leave her out of this, Paskims,” Colin told him, in a tone that dared them to challenge his authority And even better than his defense came a slight caress of his thumb over her hand, which she knew, knew with all her heart, meant that he didn’t see her in such a tawdry light.
Paskims continued, “I say, how dare you show your cowardly face in public, Romulus. As if you still ruled the seas.”
The others chuckled.
Romulus. She realized what once had been a nickname of honor was now being bandied about like an insult. But why? And what had Colin done to deserve such vehement animosity?
“Don’t you have anything to say, Remus?” Colin nodded to the third man, who held back from his friends.
“To the likes of you?” The man sniffed. “Just that I agree with Paskims. You’ve certainly come down in your choice of companions. There was a time when you were too good for such common trash.”
The other two laughed.
And the one called Remus wasn’t done. “Perhaps I’ll start calling on Lady Diana. I hear she’s no longer engaged.”
At the mention of this Lady Diana, Colin immediately dropped her hand.
“Go ahead and try,” he said. “Lamden wouldn’t let you cross his threshold. Not unless you’ve finally and miraculously made captain, Commander Hinchcliffe.”
Hinchcliffe colored to a shade reminiscent of Uncle Phineas’s favorite port.
If anything, Georgie gauged there was an even greater animosity between the two of them—not unlike their namesakes.
Romulus and Remus.
She doubted any of these gentlemen, Colin included, would believe that she had any knowledge of classical literature, but she actually knew the story quite well.
In one of his illicit trips to France, Captain Taft had given passage to a group of émigrés, including a classics tutor from Paris. The man had repaid his fare by spending the winter teaching the Escott sisters Greek and Latin, before he’d gone on to seek a position in London.
Romulus and Remus. Brothers who founded an empire and ended up at each other’s throats—until one of them died.
Hinchcliffe edged a bit closer to Colin, his chest puffed out. “You aren’t fit company for decent ladies.” He shot another withering glance in her direction, his nose pinched so tightly, Georgie wondered if he could breathe. “So
Oh, these three might be wearing the gold-trimmed and decorated uniforms of officers, but the voracious and hungry light in their eyes told her they were no different from the rabble of shore-hungry common sailors who flooded the docks of Penzance with every incoming tide.
Instinctively she stepped closer to Colin.
Colin. She liked the sound of it as well as the security of standing in his shadow.
“What do you want, Brummit?” Colin asked the large man who’d come forward.
“To see you swing like a dog,” the man said, the drab on his arm laughing in a shrill, high-pitched titter, her sagging jowls wavering with the movement.
Georgie understood now why Lady Finch had warned her about the hard life of a fallen lady. The pair with these gentlemen looked as if they had traveled every ruined mile on their hands and knees.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Captain,” Colin said. “But I had other plans.”
The second one stepped forward. He was the shortest of the three, but Georgie thought just as deadly from his beady gaze and taut stance. Like a terrier searching out a rat.
“So the ever perfect and sanctimonious Romulus still thinks he’s better than us. But I suppose we must pity you since this is all you can afford now,” he said with an insolent sneer toward Georgie.
Whatever she was, Georgie was of no mind to be referred to as this, as if she were some sort of refuse rotting in the gutter. She started forward, about to open her mouth and speak her mind, when she felt Colin’s hand, the one covering hers, tighten, warning her to stand down.
This isn’t your fight.
“Leave her out of this, Paskims,” Colin told him, in a tone that dared them to challenge his authority And even better than his defense came a slight caress of his thumb over her hand, which she knew, knew with all her heart, meant that he didn’t see her in such a tawdry light.
Paskims continued, “I say, how dare you show your cowardly face in public, Romulus. As if you still ruled the seas.”
The others chuckled.
Romulus. She realized what once had been a nickname of honor was now being bandied about like an insult. But why? And what had Colin done to deserve such vehement animosity?
“Don’t you have anything to say, Remus?” Colin nodded to the third man, who held back from his friends.
“To the likes of you?” The man sniffed. “Just that I agree with Paskims. You’ve certainly come down in your choice of companions. There was a time when you were too good for such common trash.”
The other two laughed.
And the one called Remus wasn’t done. “Perhaps I’ll start calling on Lady Diana. I hear she’s no longer engaged.”
At the mention of this Lady Diana, Colin immediately dropped her hand.
“Go ahead and try,” he said. “Lamden wouldn’t let you cross his threshold. Not unless you’ve finally and miraculously made captain, Commander Hinchcliffe.”
Hinchcliffe colored to a shade reminiscent of Uncle Phineas’s favorite port.
If anything, Georgie gauged there was an even greater animosity between the two of them—not unlike their namesakes.
Romulus and Remus.
She doubted any of these gentlemen, Colin included, would believe that she had any knowledge of classical literature, but she actually knew the story quite well.
In one of his illicit trips to France, Captain Taft had given passage to a group of émigrés, including a classics tutor from Paris. The man had repaid his fare by spending the winter teaching the Escott sisters Greek and Latin, before he’d gone on to seek a position in London.
Romulus and Remus. Brothers who founded an empire and ended up at each other’s throats—until one of them died.
Hinchcliffe edged a bit closer to Colin, his chest puffed out. “You aren’t fit company for decent ladies.” He shot another withering glance in her direction, his nose pinched so tightly, Georgie wondered if he could breathe. “So
Similar Books
