Read Online Ruthless Charmer by Julia London - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia London
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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largest project to date: She was determined to garner the financial backing necessary to open a school for girls near the London factories where many women and children worked.
And that was what she would focus her attention on forthwith. She would forget the Rake, forget the kiss, and forget everything about France altogether.
So, after a hot bath, when she descended to the lower floors for supper, she was feeling much improved, her energy renewed and focused on the important tasks before her. She was met at the dining room door by a footman carrying a huge bouquet of daffodils, irises, and roses—a very unusual but pleasing hodgepodge of the finest hothouse flowers.
"How very lovely, Jason. Did Papa have them sent?" she asked, beaming as the footman set the monstrous bouquet on a small console.
"No, milady," he said, and handed her a card. She opened the card, glanced at the signature, and felt an immediate flurry of butterflies in her stomach.
I recall with a smile the pleasure of our acquaintance in Dieppe, but the crossing is remembered with even greater fondness. Please accept this token of my thanks for your very charming company during what could well have been an intolerable wait.
Yours, Kettering
The Rake had found his way home after all.
Five
Kettering House, St. James Square
Walter Tinley, the Kettering butler for more than forty years, opened the door of the mansion on St. James Square and immediately wrinkled his age-spotted nose. "Beggin' your pardon, my lord, but it would seem a rather pungent odor has accompanied you home."
Julian glowered at the ancient butler—the older Tinley got, the less reverent he became. Every year at Christmas, Julian offered the man a very generous pension and a lovely cottage at Kettering Hall in Northamptonshire. Every year, the old sawhorse declined, determined to serve until his dying day. "Are you going to let me in?" he growled.
Tinley stepped out of the way, drawing an audible breath when Julian passed.
Irritable and exhausted, the noise of running feet assailed his frayed nerves as Julian stepped inside. With a squeal, his youngest sister, Sophie, came flying down the marble staircase and into the foyer. "You're home!" she cried as she flung herself into his arms. He caught her about the waist, finding his balance just before they both would have landed on the floor. "I've missed you terribly, Julian! Aunt Violet said you'd be another fortnight or more— Oh, my," she said, and gingerly pulled away, nose wrinkled. "Oh, dear," she repeated, and took several steps backward.
With an impatient sigh, Julian tossed his gloves at a hovering footman. "It has been a rather arduous journey," he groused. "Tinley, I should very much like a bath. Have one drawn, will you?"
"Most immediately," the old man replied, and hurried as fast as his ancient legs would take him. Julian scowled at his retreating back; fortunately, Rosie, the proprietor at the Park Lane hothouse, had not been so affronted. But then, he was one of her best customers. The two gentlemen waiting to purchase fresh flowers had seemed a little offended, particularly the one who pulled out a kerchief and held it over his nose. Well, devil take them all! When he had offered that stubborn Demon's Spawn the use of the one coach he had been able to find for hire in Newhaven, he had fully intended to ride along. But oh no. That did not suit Lady Claudia. She wouldn't take his money, but she'd damn sure take his coach and leave him stranded in the rain with no mode of transportation. It was bloody fortunate that he had been able to find a man willing to sell an old nag to him instead of the rendering factory.
"I've so much to tell you!" Sophie said excitedly, and Julian forced a smile. Standing in the low light of the foyer, she looked pretty. Of all his sisters, Sophie was the plainest. She did not have the stunning eyes that Eugenie and Ann had, or the lovely, thick black hair Valerie had been blessed with. Her
And that was what she would focus her attention on forthwith. She would forget the Rake, forget the kiss, and forget everything about France altogether.
So, after a hot bath, when she descended to the lower floors for supper, she was feeling much improved, her energy renewed and focused on the important tasks before her. She was met at the dining room door by a footman carrying a huge bouquet of daffodils, irises, and roses—a very unusual but pleasing hodgepodge of the finest hothouse flowers.
"How very lovely, Jason. Did Papa have them sent?" she asked, beaming as the footman set the monstrous bouquet on a small console.
"No, milady," he said, and handed her a card. She opened the card, glanced at the signature, and felt an immediate flurry of butterflies in her stomach.
I recall with a smile the pleasure of our acquaintance in Dieppe, but the crossing is remembered with even greater fondness. Please accept this token of my thanks for your very charming company during what could well have been an intolerable wait.
Yours, Kettering
The Rake had found his way home after all.
Five
Kettering House, St. James Square
Walter Tinley, the Kettering butler for more than forty years, opened the door of the mansion on St. James Square and immediately wrinkled his age-spotted nose. "Beggin' your pardon, my lord, but it would seem a rather pungent odor has accompanied you home."
Julian glowered at the ancient butler—the older Tinley got, the less reverent he became. Every year at Christmas, Julian offered the man a very generous pension and a lovely cottage at Kettering Hall in Northamptonshire. Every year, the old sawhorse declined, determined to serve until his dying day. "Are you going to let me in?" he growled.
Tinley stepped out of the way, drawing an audible breath when Julian passed.
Irritable and exhausted, the noise of running feet assailed his frayed nerves as Julian stepped inside. With a squeal, his youngest sister, Sophie, came flying down the marble staircase and into the foyer. "You're home!" she cried as she flung herself into his arms. He caught her about the waist, finding his balance just before they both would have landed on the floor. "I've missed you terribly, Julian! Aunt Violet said you'd be another fortnight or more— Oh, my," she said, and gingerly pulled away, nose wrinkled. "Oh, dear," she repeated, and took several steps backward.
With an impatient sigh, Julian tossed his gloves at a hovering footman. "It has been a rather arduous journey," he groused. "Tinley, I should very much like a bath. Have one drawn, will you?"
"Most immediately," the old man replied, and hurried as fast as his ancient legs would take him. Julian scowled at his retreating back; fortunately, Rosie, the proprietor at the Park Lane hothouse, had not been so affronted. But then, he was one of her best customers. The two gentlemen waiting to purchase fresh flowers had seemed a little offended, particularly the one who pulled out a kerchief and held it over his nose. Well, devil take them all! When he had offered that stubborn Demon's Spawn the use of the one coach he had been able to find for hire in Newhaven, he had fully intended to ride along. But oh no. That did not suit Lady Claudia. She wouldn't take his money, but she'd damn sure take his coach and leave him stranded in the rain with no mode of transportation. It was bloody fortunate that he had been able to find a man willing to sell an old nag to him instead of the rendering factory.
"I've so much to tell you!" Sophie said excitedly, and Julian forced a smile. Standing in the low light of the foyer, she looked pretty. Of all his sisters, Sophie was the plainest. She did not have the stunning eyes that Eugenie and Ann had, or the lovely, thick black hair Valerie had been blessed with. Her
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