Read Online Society's Most Scandalous Viscount by Anabelle Bryant - Free Book Online Page A

without objection, but implied nonetheless. After the tumultuous confrontations in their past, Angelica had wisely approached her father with an attitude of compliance, though a slice of injustice urged she leave through the front door and not look back. She discarded the foolish notion as soon as it formed. There was much to weigh in concern of her future and she wasn’t a coward. Failure was not an option.
    Returning her eyes to the garden, Angelica watched her father command the conversation, the words overflowing as he jabbed at the ground with punctilious gesticulation. A nearby sparrow took wing to avoid being skewered. Father pivoted and advanced a few steps and Grandmother followed. The conversation had seemingly progressed to a more heated level if their expressions were any indication. Grandmother didn’t approve of Father’s dedicated zeal for religion and Angelica wondered if Father had shared his plan and thus prompted the switch in congenial discussion to vehement diatribe. Her father screwed his face into a scowl of condemnation she’d come to know well. His steps stalled a second time. How could he behave so to his mother?
    Angelica loved her grandmother above all else. Her affection was the only maternal influence she’d experienced. Her grandmother’s nature was in contrast to her father’s, a strict pious man who raised his daughters with reserved obedience.
    The fleeting image of Helen flittered to mind and Angelica allowed the forbidden memory to settle in her heart with a hollow ache. Would she ever see her sister again? Why must everything be so complicated? Perhaps her father preferred it this way. One daughter proved easier to handle than two, especially when every proposition was met with opposition.
    With renewed anger tipping the scale, Angelica strode through the door and out into the sunlight. She’d face her father and see why he’d arrived on short notice. She owed that much to Helen and there was no other way for her to plan her future or escape if she didn’t assemble as much information as possible. She wouldn’t repeat Helen’s mistake. The realization pricked like a thorn on the stem of a rose. Angelica would design a better plan, conspire smarter, otherwise how else would she ever honor her sister’s memory?
    Kellaway secured Nyx in his stall and eyed the gilt carriage parked against the far wall. A beat of anger drummed to life, for he knew the carriage as his mother’s. The conveyance, one of elegant lines and crafted design, was expensive and refined, in juxtaposition to his mother’s true character. The persistent serration of conflict that accompanied thoughts of a new altercation with her gained strength. He was a good son, at least by most measures. He wished to honor his mother, and protect her, but the foolish societal mayhem she perpetuated in response to his father’s indiscretions rubbed him raw. Kell preferred to keep his private life just that, under lock and key where no one could turn a critical eye.
    In contrast, his parents had created a lifestyle that resembled a poorly acted theatrical drama. Their petty squabbles and humbling adulterous escapades added fuel to a fire that needed to burn out. Worse, his mother played Kellaway to her advantage, asking him to resolve differences and intercede, sometimes to appeal to his father, which instigated further acts of inconsequential revenge. The entirety damaged Kell’s reputation as much as his sire’s. Had his grandfather not interfered and taken Kell’s father to task, who knew to what length his parents would have carried their immature squabbling?
    Kell shook his head in despair. He’d come to Brighton to escape the familial mess that had plagued him since his early twenties. A decade of endurance seemed penance enough.
    He fetched a brush from the tack room, lit a lantern, and began Nyx’s grooming ritual. He enjoyed tending the Arabian in