Read Online The Primrose Path by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page B

chirpings overhead, the fresh scent of growing things. The dog at his side was perfect company, not disturbing the serenity of the day with idle chatter the way a human companion would. Spooky was happy to nose through piles of leaves, investigate fallen tree trunks, and startle the occasional small bird. He’d stand still then, quivering in anticipation, waiting for directions.
    “No, old chap, we’re not interested in pigeons today.” Spooky would return to Corin’s side for a job-well-done pat. Country life was delightful, the viscount thought. Perhaps, when the Corsican was finally defeated, he’d spend more time away from London. He’d go to Town for Parliament’s sessions, of course, but maybe he wouldn’t devote so much of his effort to the political machinations beyond taking his seat. He had responsibilities here in Kent, too, after all. A property the size of the Knoll didn’t run itself.
    Corin didn’t think he’d miss London. He didn’t pine for the late nights, the boring receptions, the interminable dinners, or the constant gossip and gambling. He didn’t regret not seeing another production of Romeo and Juliet or another assembly at Almack’s. Even his favored pastimes of sparring at Gentleman Jackson’s or shooting at Manton’s gallery could easily be foregone. Corin had exercise and camaraderie right here, in his own home woods.
    All he’d need to be content, he thought, was a pretty little wife waiting patiently at home, puttering in the rose garden and providing him with the required heirs. The only thing he did regret missing, being in the country, was the chance to fix Miss Melissa Wyte’s interest. Every gentleman in Town, it seemed, was throwing himself and his empty purse at her dainty little feet. Corin shrugged. There’d be other heiresses. There wouldn’t be many days as perfect as this one, even if the viscount’s corduroy jacket was growing heavy with moisture and his game leg was beginning to ache.
    Then Spooky flushed a covey of quail. “Now that’s more like it, sir!” Corin congratulated the dog, taking aim. Boom! went the rifle, “A-woo” went the dog. Thud went the falling bird, and thud went Lord Knowle as Spooky knocked him off balance by running right between his legs. A ghost couldn’t have disappeared into thin air any faster than the spaniel fled the woods and the loud noise.
    He’d strangle her this time, Corin decided as he brushed leaf mold off his shirtfront. No matter that she hadn’t even been in the yard when he’d taken Spooky, it was all Miss Armstead’s fault. Hell, his being in this benighted backwoods was her fault! If she’d just behave like a rational person, taking his money and her dogs elsewhere, he could leave Primrose Cottage to the spy, leave the Knoll to his stewards, and leave his card at Miss Wyte’s house tomorrow afternoon.
    Instead, he’d spend the cursed morning marching through miles of wet woods in sodden garments, looking for the world’s most useless gundog. Poachers could be lurking in the woods, or itinerant bands of starving ex-soldiers. Lud knew what would become of Spooky if he fell into their hands. And Lud knew what would become of Corin if Miss Armstead found out!
    Damn and blast, he had to find the muttonheaded mutt. So the viscount shouted himself hoarse and walked himself lame. He missed lunch and he missed tea, and most of all he missed his clubs and his comfortable town house. With every miserable mile, Corin got madder. Seeing Spooky happily gnawing on a meaty bone back in his enclosure at Primrose Cottage made the viscount see red.
    “You could have told me the bloody dog was gun-shy, damn you!” he shouted, even more furious with himself for not realizing the dog could find his way back home more easily than Corin could.
    “You didn’t ask, did you?” Angelina replied from the front doorway where she stood, Corin noted, out of the weather.
    He also noted six smirking servants and one immense, alert