Read Online The Devil May Care (Brotherhood of Sinners #1) by Lara Archer - Free Book Online
Authors: Lara Archer
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polite upturning of his lips. Curious . Who was this man?
Even more oddly, Sebastian’s free hand pressed to Rachel’s lower back, almost possessively. She forced herself to relax against his touch.
“Oh, Lord Henry,” said Lady Barham, “I must tell you, I heard the most delicious piece of gossip about you at the Duchess of Arlington’s fête the other night.”
“Lies,” cut in Lord Henry smoothly. “Every word of it.”
“Now, how do you know it was lies?” protested Lady Barham merrily. “I haven’t even told you what the story was!”
“Ah, my dear, I know Her Grace well, and I know for a fact she never indulges in stale tittle-tattle. I, poor mortal that I am, have done nothing gossip-worthy in years. Age, I regret to say, has robbed me of the best of my wickedness.”
“Oh, such a thing I cannot believe, my lord,” Rachel found herself saying. The French voice came out throaty, with a confidence that scarcely seemed her own. “The look of you suggests a . . . how do you say? . . . a prowess that can only have improved with years. Years give some men a lasting steadiness the young can only envy.”
Lady Barham clapped her hands together, laughing, and cried, “Indeed! Oh, indeed, I’m sure you have the right of it, dear Salomé!”
Thank the heavens Mr. Rapson had shown Rachel the poetry of the ancients without the prudish expurgations usually made for British schoolboys. For him, even the most salacious texts were sacred, and he’d never have silenced Sappho or Catullus with his own pen. Lord Gargoyle had looked quite stunned when she’d listed the titles she and her tutor had read together. It had been most gratifying to see his jaw drop.
Now Lord Henry favored her with an urgent, questioning look—an invitation?
No, not an invitation. There was a demand there, but nothing like the hungry looks du Bourge and Cardross poured over her.
He might as well have touched a cold fingertip to the nape of her neck.
Who is he?
Sebastian’s palm pressed more firmly against her back. She didn’t dare look towards him, though, or her nerves would give her away. She was a hairsbreadth from visible shaking.
“Oh, Sebastian!” said Lady Barham. “For years, I’ve wished to see you and Lord Henry compete, skilled as you both are. You must engage in a match as soon as possible!”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Do you play chess, sir?”
“Not that,” cried Lady Barham. “I meant fencing , Sebastian dear. Lord Henry is as much a master as you are. He studied with Alfonse du Magnin years ago.”
“Du Magnin?” Sebastian’s voice rose with genuine enthusiasm. “At the Académie d'Armes de Paris?”
Lord Henry gave a modest nod of acknowledgement. “I misspent the entirety of my youth in France before the monarchy fell. And have seized every possible opportunity of return since, whenever I thought I could do so in safety.”
“A glorious city, Paris,” said Sebastian. “And your teacher the very finest in the French classical style.”
“ Alors !” chimed in du Bourge, flushed with animation. “Du Magnin was the teacher of my own dear father as well, though he retired before I was of age to learn from him myself. I should love to see the style of your attack, Lord Henry, and watch the handiwork of du Magnin once more.”
“I, too, should like to try myself against a student of du Magnin’s,” said Sebastian. “But the chance may not come for some time, your grace. I leave London within days.”
“Then tonight!” insisted the duc. “This place is good as any, n’est ce pas ? The floor is large enough.”
“You’d do no damage I could care about,” said Lady Barham, happily flushed as well. “No doubt this place bore witness to a bloody match or two in the olden days!”
“But we have no weapons,” noted Lord Henry.
“Tush!” declared Lord Cardross. “I took my exercise at Angelo’s this very afternoon, and have four good foils in my coach, all of Toledo
Even more oddly, Sebastian’s free hand pressed to Rachel’s lower back, almost possessively. She forced herself to relax against his touch.
“Oh, Lord Henry,” said Lady Barham, “I must tell you, I heard the most delicious piece of gossip about you at the Duchess of Arlington’s fête the other night.”
“Lies,” cut in Lord Henry smoothly. “Every word of it.”
“Now, how do you know it was lies?” protested Lady Barham merrily. “I haven’t even told you what the story was!”
“Ah, my dear, I know Her Grace well, and I know for a fact she never indulges in stale tittle-tattle. I, poor mortal that I am, have done nothing gossip-worthy in years. Age, I regret to say, has robbed me of the best of my wickedness.”
“Oh, such a thing I cannot believe, my lord,” Rachel found herself saying. The French voice came out throaty, with a confidence that scarcely seemed her own. “The look of you suggests a . . . how do you say? . . . a prowess that can only have improved with years. Years give some men a lasting steadiness the young can only envy.”
Lady Barham clapped her hands together, laughing, and cried, “Indeed! Oh, indeed, I’m sure you have the right of it, dear Salomé!”
Thank the heavens Mr. Rapson had shown Rachel the poetry of the ancients without the prudish expurgations usually made for British schoolboys. For him, even the most salacious texts were sacred, and he’d never have silenced Sappho or Catullus with his own pen. Lord Gargoyle had looked quite stunned when she’d listed the titles she and her tutor had read together. It had been most gratifying to see his jaw drop.
Now Lord Henry favored her with an urgent, questioning look—an invitation?
No, not an invitation. There was a demand there, but nothing like the hungry looks du Bourge and Cardross poured over her.
He might as well have touched a cold fingertip to the nape of her neck.
Who is he?
Sebastian’s palm pressed more firmly against her back. She didn’t dare look towards him, though, or her nerves would give her away. She was a hairsbreadth from visible shaking.
“Oh, Sebastian!” said Lady Barham. “For years, I’ve wished to see you and Lord Henry compete, skilled as you both are. You must engage in a match as soon as possible!”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Do you play chess, sir?”
“Not that,” cried Lady Barham. “I meant fencing , Sebastian dear. Lord Henry is as much a master as you are. He studied with Alfonse du Magnin years ago.”
“Du Magnin?” Sebastian’s voice rose with genuine enthusiasm. “At the Académie d'Armes de Paris?”
Lord Henry gave a modest nod of acknowledgement. “I misspent the entirety of my youth in France before the monarchy fell. And have seized every possible opportunity of return since, whenever I thought I could do so in safety.”
“A glorious city, Paris,” said Sebastian. “And your teacher the very finest in the French classical style.”
“ Alors !” chimed in du Bourge, flushed with animation. “Du Magnin was the teacher of my own dear father as well, though he retired before I was of age to learn from him myself. I should love to see the style of your attack, Lord Henry, and watch the handiwork of du Magnin once more.”
“I, too, should like to try myself against a student of du Magnin’s,” said Sebastian. “But the chance may not come for some time, your grace. I leave London within days.”
“Then tonight!” insisted the duc. “This place is good as any, n’est ce pas ? The floor is large enough.”
“You’d do no damage I could care about,” said Lady Barham, happily flushed as well. “No doubt this place bore witness to a bloody match or two in the olden days!”
“But we have no weapons,” noted Lord Henry.
“Tush!” declared Lord Cardross. “I took my exercise at Angelo’s this very afternoon, and have four good foils in my coach, all of Toledo
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