Read Online The Officer's Little Rebel by Ava Sinclair - Free Book Online
Authors: Ava Sinclair
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his brother, it brought Royce no satisfaction to pen a reply to William denying him a dime.
“Your defiance of our father can almost be excused,” he wrote. “Your treatment of Marilyn Jennings cannot. That you refused to face her family after her suicide only proves you more of a coward than your refusal to serve the crown ever did. You do not deserve your name, let alone a title. The answer is ‘no,’ William, and I say this with regret, for you have shamed us all by your actions and I will have nothing further to say to you.”
Royce stared at the letter until the ink was dry, and then sealed and addressed it before handing it to a servant to drop in the post. He stood then, straightening his jacket. He’d been firm with his brother, now he would have to exercise firmness with his little Imogen.
Nanny Quinn had told him what had happened in the room, and how she’d corrected the girl. Royce had been going to speak with her earlier when he’d heard the telltale signs of her passionate cries from behind the door. He’d started to go in, but had decided against it. For the girl to be so blatantly defiant suggested something deeper than just a strong will. He intended to get to the bottom of the problem, but not in a hasty manner that would alienate her.
As he mounted the stairs, he was certain of what he would have to do. Halfway down the hall, he stopped by her door and rapped. When she didn’t answer, he removed the key he’d gotten from Miss Quinn and opened it. He was surprised to find Imogen still obediently in bed.
“I’d have thought to find my little one up and running about,” he said.
She had her back to him. “It wouldn’t do me much good to get up,” she said. “The minder you hired locked the door.” Now she did turn to face him. “Tell me, Major Kingsley, for I’m ignorant of the ways of fine people. Is it common practice to lock your children in their rooms?”
The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable.
“You’re angry,” he said.
“Of course I’m bloody angry.” She started to turn her back to him again, but he reached out, grasping her gently but firmly enough to hold her on her back.
“Nanny told me what happened,” he said. “She said she gave you a list of rules. Did you obey?”
“Am I still in bed?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, and then reached for her hand, which she immediately curled into a fist. He pried it open, staring down at the fading stripes left by the nanny’s ruler. Raising the hand to his mouth, he kissed the welts, then inhaled deeply, savoring the musky scent left on her palm. Running his tongue across one welt, he tasted the salty remnants of her dried arousal.
“You stayed in bed, but you touched yourself.”
She jerked her hand away so violently it took him by surprise. Pushing back, she sat up against the headboard, glaring.
“Be honest with me, and with yourself,” she said. “You don’t want a wife. You don’t want a companion. You want a slave. And you think you can treat me as one because of… what is it you grand people say, my ‘station’?” Imogen shook her head, scoffing. “My stepfather was right. You think we are rubbish to be ground beneath your expensive boots.”
He stared at her for a moment, stunned. “Imogen,” he said. “You could not be more wrong.”
“Oh, really?” she asked. “Is that not why you keep me locked away, separate and apart? Is that not why Miss Quinn reminds me at every turn that I am lesser than you? She assumes me dirty, told me the fine clothes would be a change from the ‘filthy rags’ I wore when you found me.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Was I wearing filthy rags when we met, Major Kingsley? Was I?” She raised her voice on the last question, and he realized now how she’d misinterpreted things, and how wounded he’d left her.
“Oh, Imogen,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You are so wrong, although I can see how nanny’s thoughtlessness may have
“Your defiance of our father can almost be excused,” he wrote. “Your treatment of Marilyn Jennings cannot. That you refused to face her family after her suicide only proves you more of a coward than your refusal to serve the crown ever did. You do not deserve your name, let alone a title. The answer is ‘no,’ William, and I say this with regret, for you have shamed us all by your actions and I will have nothing further to say to you.”
Royce stared at the letter until the ink was dry, and then sealed and addressed it before handing it to a servant to drop in the post. He stood then, straightening his jacket. He’d been firm with his brother, now he would have to exercise firmness with his little Imogen.
Nanny Quinn had told him what had happened in the room, and how she’d corrected the girl. Royce had been going to speak with her earlier when he’d heard the telltale signs of her passionate cries from behind the door. He’d started to go in, but had decided against it. For the girl to be so blatantly defiant suggested something deeper than just a strong will. He intended to get to the bottom of the problem, but not in a hasty manner that would alienate her.
As he mounted the stairs, he was certain of what he would have to do. Halfway down the hall, he stopped by her door and rapped. When she didn’t answer, he removed the key he’d gotten from Miss Quinn and opened it. He was surprised to find Imogen still obediently in bed.
“I’d have thought to find my little one up and running about,” he said.
She had her back to him. “It wouldn’t do me much good to get up,” she said. “The minder you hired locked the door.” Now she did turn to face him. “Tell me, Major Kingsley, for I’m ignorant of the ways of fine people. Is it common practice to lock your children in their rooms?”
The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable.
“You’re angry,” he said.
“Of course I’m bloody angry.” She started to turn her back to him again, but he reached out, grasping her gently but firmly enough to hold her on her back.
“Nanny told me what happened,” he said. “She said she gave you a list of rules. Did you obey?”
“Am I still in bed?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, and then reached for her hand, which she immediately curled into a fist. He pried it open, staring down at the fading stripes left by the nanny’s ruler. Raising the hand to his mouth, he kissed the welts, then inhaled deeply, savoring the musky scent left on her palm. Running his tongue across one welt, he tasted the salty remnants of her dried arousal.
“You stayed in bed, but you touched yourself.”
She jerked her hand away so violently it took him by surprise. Pushing back, she sat up against the headboard, glaring.
“Be honest with me, and with yourself,” she said. “You don’t want a wife. You don’t want a companion. You want a slave. And you think you can treat me as one because of… what is it you grand people say, my ‘station’?” Imogen shook her head, scoffing. “My stepfather was right. You think we are rubbish to be ground beneath your expensive boots.”
He stared at her for a moment, stunned. “Imogen,” he said. “You could not be more wrong.”
“Oh, really?” she asked. “Is that not why you keep me locked away, separate and apart? Is that not why Miss Quinn reminds me at every turn that I am lesser than you? She assumes me dirty, told me the fine clothes would be a change from the ‘filthy rags’ I wore when you found me.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Was I wearing filthy rags when we met, Major Kingsley? Was I?” She raised her voice on the last question, and he realized now how she’d misinterpreted things, and how wounded he’d left her.
“Oh, Imogen,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You are so wrong, although I can see how nanny’s thoughtlessness may have
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