Read Online The Ruin Of A Rogue by Miranda Neville - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Miranda Neville
Ads: Link
thieves. Or in their case rogues. Neither he nor Julian had ever been a common thief.
Since meeting at Oxford they’d shared a kinship, based on their lack of fortune and birth, when compared to Robert Townsend with his handsome estate and Damian, Lord Kendal, heir to the earldom of Windermere. Marcus never entirely lost the feeling that he needed to sing for his supper and Julian felt the same. Their jokes were wittier and more frequent, their schemes more outrageous when the object was, as usual, to shock the sedate. And the sedate, duly shocked, always blamed them because what could they expect from a pair of young men with such disreputable sires, each a greater disgrace to their distant but nonetheless noble families.
There’d also been a competitive element to their roguery. The old feeling of wishing to outdo Julian made Marcus boastful. “Spoiled heiresses need careful handling,” he said. “I believe I progress with the amiable Miss Brotherton. The poor girl is beginning to trust me. Two steps forward and one back. You know how the game is played. I kiss her, and apologize for the liberty. Next time I shall declare myself unable to resist her. It won’t be long until she’s begging for my attentions. As long as her guardian stays away for a few more weeks I’m confident I can bring home the prize.”
A nne choked back tears as her maid unlaced the lovely gown. Maldon, approving greatly of the addition to her mistress’s wardrobe, gave the silk a shake and laid it reverently over the back of a chair. Anne wanted to hurl it onto the floor and stamp on it.
Fool, fool, fool that she was to believe he wanted her for herself. How stupid to delude herself that a handsome young man with a reputation as a scoundrel could have been attracted to a quiet, plain heiress for any reason but the obvious one.
Maldon helped her out of her fine new petticoats and shift and held up the new nightgown Cynthia had persuaded her to buy. The fine white cotton shimmered like satin and was trimmed with beautiful Brussels lace.
“Not that. It’s impractical for winter. Fetch one of my old ones.”
She lay in the dark in the high-necked garment of thick flannel, suitable for warding off chills. But the sturdy cloth had been softened by washing and offered none of the physical discomfort she needed to match her inner anguish. What she deserved was a hair shirt, whatever that was. Better yet, sackcloth.
Spoiled heiress, was she? Beg for his attentions, would she?
She’d show him.
Chapter 6
M arcus was in a splendid mood, not just as a result of Julian’s excellent claret. The morning had brought delivery of a letter that pleased him beyond its significance to the success of his stratagem. He looked forward to an enjoyable day. The idea of winning Anne Brotherton and actually marrying her had taken hold of his mind, and not solely for material reasons. The money would be splendid, of course, but the bride that brought it evoked an unaccustomed tenderness. There was a lovely woman beneath her reserve, one who deserved to be introduced to the finer things of life, such as passion and even love.
“Travis, I need your advice,” he said, fired with enthusiasm for the task ahead.
“Yes, sir?”
“Miss Brotherton has asked me to show her some of the sights of London.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I think so too. But how shall I do it? I don’t like to ask if we can use one of Lady Windermere’s carriages since she does not offer. Should I take her in a hackney?”
“Certainly not. I believe the best course is to hire a town coach and driver from a first-class livery stable.”
“That will cost a pretty penny.”
“And a footman too. To wait on you, and for propriety.”
“She will be bringing her maid.”
“Anything less than a footman would appear shabby. Ideally there should be two.”
“One is quite enough. I’ve escorted ladies before, but they always provided their own carriages. Or boats, in the case
Since meeting at Oxford they’d shared a kinship, based on their lack of fortune and birth, when compared to Robert Townsend with his handsome estate and Damian, Lord Kendal, heir to the earldom of Windermere. Marcus never entirely lost the feeling that he needed to sing for his supper and Julian felt the same. Their jokes were wittier and more frequent, their schemes more outrageous when the object was, as usual, to shock the sedate. And the sedate, duly shocked, always blamed them because what could they expect from a pair of young men with such disreputable sires, each a greater disgrace to their distant but nonetheless noble families.
There’d also been a competitive element to their roguery. The old feeling of wishing to outdo Julian made Marcus boastful. “Spoiled heiresses need careful handling,” he said. “I believe I progress with the amiable Miss Brotherton. The poor girl is beginning to trust me. Two steps forward and one back. You know how the game is played. I kiss her, and apologize for the liberty. Next time I shall declare myself unable to resist her. It won’t be long until she’s begging for my attentions. As long as her guardian stays away for a few more weeks I’m confident I can bring home the prize.”
A nne choked back tears as her maid unlaced the lovely gown. Maldon, approving greatly of the addition to her mistress’s wardrobe, gave the silk a shake and laid it reverently over the back of a chair. Anne wanted to hurl it onto the floor and stamp on it.
Fool, fool, fool that she was to believe he wanted her for herself. How stupid to delude herself that a handsome young man with a reputation as a scoundrel could have been attracted to a quiet, plain heiress for any reason but the obvious one.
Maldon helped her out of her fine new petticoats and shift and held up the new nightgown Cynthia had persuaded her to buy. The fine white cotton shimmered like satin and was trimmed with beautiful Brussels lace.
“Not that. It’s impractical for winter. Fetch one of my old ones.”
She lay in the dark in the high-necked garment of thick flannel, suitable for warding off chills. But the sturdy cloth had been softened by washing and offered none of the physical discomfort she needed to match her inner anguish. What she deserved was a hair shirt, whatever that was. Better yet, sackcloth.
Spoiled heiress, was she? Beg for his attentions, would she?
She’d show him.
Chapter 6
M arcus was in a splendid mood, not just as a result of Julian’s excellent claret. The morning had brought delivery of a letter that pleased him beyond its significance to the success of his stratagem. He looked forward to an enjoyable day. The idea of winning Anne Brotherton and actually marrying her had taken hold of his mind, and not solely for material reasons. The money would be splendid, of course, but the bride that brought it evoked an unaccustomed tenderness. There was a lovely woman beneath her reserve, one who deserved to be introduced to the finer things of life, such as passion and even love.
“Travis, I need your advice,” he said, fired with enthusiasm for the task ahead.
“Yes, sir?”
“Miss Brotherton has asked me to show her some of the sights of London.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I think so too. But how shall I do it? I don’t like to ask if we can use one of Lady Windermere’s carriages since she does not offer. Should I take her in a hackney?”
“Certainly not. I believe the best course is to hire a town coach and driver from a first-class livery stable.”
“That will cost a pretty penny.”
“And a footman too. To wait on you, and for propriety.”
“She will be bringing her maid.”
“Anything less than a footman would appear shabby. Ideally there should be two.”
“One is quite enough. I’ve escorted ladies before, but they always provided their own carriages. Or boats, in the case
Similar Books
