Read Online The Ruin Of A Rogue by Miranda Neville - Free Book Online Page B

of the Venetians. I fondly recall the contessa’s well-appointed gondola. Velvet cushions and a brocade curtain for privacy. I wonder if such a thing is to be found in London. On wheels, of course. It might be worth the expense.”
    Travis’s bushy eyebrows flew comically north. “Miss Brotherton is a virtuous young lady!”
    “All the better.”
    Travis’s features relaxed into benignity. “Your Lordship does enjoy a joke. There’s one matter I’d like to bring up, my lord.” My lord usually presaged an unwelcome demand. “Your hair.”
    “My hair? What’s wrong with it?”
    “Nothing, of course. Except that gentlemen now are wearing Brutus crops. You will wish to appear in the latest mode for Miss Brotherton.”
    “Judging by Miss Brotherton’s attire, her notion of the latest mode dates to before the Revolution. My hair is fine. I like it long and always have.”
    “Not even a little curl?”
    “Especially not that. Help me dress.”
    “The green coat, I think.”
    “By all means. It matches my eyes.”
    “And where are you intending to take the young lady?”
    “The British Museum, where else? I’ve sent a boy to obtain tickets, which are, I am glad to say, free of charge. I daresay she’ll be hungry after all that antiquity.”
    Travis looked doubtful. “It isn’t usual for a lady to take refreshments in a public place in London.”
    “Good Lord, how uncivilized.”
    “I suppose a lady, duly chaperoned, might dine at a posting inn, or other well-appointed and discreet establishment.”
    “Somehow, Travis, I don’t think you and I have the same notion of the definition and uses of a discreet establishment.” Not that Miss Brotherton was ready for seduction. But another kiss in the carriage, definitely. “Are you sure I need the maid if I hire a footman?”
    A t eleven o’clock sharp, Marcus drew up in Hanover Square in what he considered a very decent town coach with two better-than-average job horses. The hired footman—he’d drawn the line at two—sprang down and rapped on the door of Windermere House. A stately butler admitted Marcus and informed him, with a faint odor of disapproval, that he would inquire whether Miss Brotherton expected him. After twenty minutes there was no sign of either the servant or the lady.
    “Will she be much longer?” he asked the footman on duty. “If so I should tell the driver to walk the horses.” He hadn’t taken her for the unpunctual sort. Though what lady was not? He hoped it meant she was taking special care with her toilette, just for him.
    The footman disappeared and Marcus kicked his heels in the black and white marble hall, examining a vast and ugly Chinese urn. Lady Windermere’s purchase, most likely. He couldn’t see Damian tolerating such a monstrosity. Denford’s feelings about his inamorata’s taste in furnishing must cause him considerable pain. Marcus wasn’t nearly as sensitive as Julian when it came to art, but even he shuddered at a particularly horrible Dutch still life prominently featuring a variety of dead game birds, well painted but gruesome.
    Hearing steps on the stairs, he turned and found that Miss Brotherton had finally appeared, unfortunately accompanied by her maid.
    “Miss Brotherton, you look beautiful. What a very fine bonnet.”
    “Lord Lithgow,” she said, offering her hand with an air of condescension and making no apology for her lateness. “Shall we go?” As he handed her into the carriage, she eyed the scratched leather seat with unmistakable disdain. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in such a vehicle. Is it hired?”
    “It’s my pleasure to offer you a new experience.” Marcus smiled at her.
    “Where are we going?”
    “I have obtained tickets for the British Museum.”
    Her mouth fell into a pout he hadn’t seen before. “I’ve already been there, several times. You promised me a new experience. I should like to see Sir Ashton Lever’s Museum in Albion Street.”
    A discussion with