Read Online What the Fates Decree: The Caversham Chronicles-The Titans of the Revolution by Sandy Raven - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandy Raven
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needs to know that he cannot go around playing free with a lady’s affections. There are repercussions for men who make a habit of it.”
“While I feel very much the same as you, I care more about Penelope’s happiness than I do telling Mr. Santiago what a—” She looked around them to make sure no one was around. “—What a horse’s arse he is.”
A footman at the bottom of the steps glanced toward them, likely waiting to escort the two ladies to where the others gathered. Charlotte took the opportunity, to end the discussion by saying, “I care about both. Very much. He hurt my friend.”
When they landed on the main level near the great hall, the footman did, as Isabel guessed, leading she and Charlotte to where the family gathered before going in to dinner. Isabel stopped before stepping down into the hall. Voices carried through, and Isabel could hear her brother entertaining someone with one of his recent outings in London. Her brother was charming when he wanted to be—usually when there were pretty girls around. Since there were no other masculine voices, she wondered if there were any other men here besides Marcus.
She glanced up at Charlotte, who stood almost a full head taller than she did. When Charlotte nodded, the two of them turned the corner and descended into the great hall.
Isabel took in the room and the enormous, cut stone that comprised the walls, and massive beams overhead which obviously supported the slate roof she saw when their carriages arrived. This part of the castle, while ancient, was clean and in good repair, though still lit with candles in massive chandeliers hanging from the center rafter that bisected the length of the hall.
She saw her brother standing with a group of four women, one seated, the other three standing, and another man who looked to be a few years older than Marcus. They were all congregated around the massive hearth on one side of the long room. A fire blazed inside an opening big enough for Isabel to stand inside. She could almost envision rushes on the floor and giant Scottish hounds laying next to the laird of the estate, seated upon a throne. This part of the castle was surely as ancient as it looked. The mantle above the fire was a hand-hewn, enormous solid log that was built into the stone surround. On the wall opposite the hearth hung a massive tapestry featuring the colors and coat of arms for the earldom of Rathcavan—a golden dragon rampant on a background half red, half black.
As she and Charlotte drew closer to the cluster of people near the hearth, she smiled at her Aunt Beverly and Lady Adina who was seated near the fire. The other two ladies, and the man, were in deep conversation with her brother. The ladies turned and smiled when Marcus gestured toward her and Charlotte. The petite blonde, she concluded, was pretty. Very pretty. Her strawberry blonde hair was done in an elaborate chignon atop her head, and wisps of curls slipped her knot which gave her an endearing, youthful look.
Was this Olivia? She could see the familial resemblance to Penelope in coloring. But that was the only common thing. The other girl had curls, where Penny did not. The other girl was more strawberry blonde, not the golden blonde of her friend. The other girl was also petite and curvaceous, much like Isabel herself. Penelope and Charlotte were both tall and willowy.
She and Charlotte greeted Aunt Beverly, and Charlotte made her excuses for Penelope, saying she was still tired from the trip, but was sure to be fine tomorrow.
“Gowrey, if my great-niece is still not feeling well after a night’s rest, you must make her well. We hunt next week, and I know she’s a game lass, and has likely been looking forward to the hunt as much as these other two ladies.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man said through a smile after giving her a mock bow. Isabel thought he was very handsome. Tall and lean, like her brother, he had dark auburn curls, worn unfashionably short.
“While I feel very much the same as you, I care more about Penelope’s happiness than I do telling Mr. Santiago what a—” She looked around them to make sure no one was around. “—What a horse’s arse he is.”
A footman at the bottom of the steps glanced toward them, likely waiting to escort the two ladies to where the others gathered. Charlotte took the opportunity, to end the discussion by saying, “I care about both. Very much. He hurt my friend.”
When they landed on the main level near the great hall, the footman did, as Isabel guessed, leading she and Charlotte to where the family gathered before going in to dinner. Isabel stopped before stepping down into the hall. Voices carried through, and Isabel could hear her brother entertaining someone with one of his recent outings in London. Her brother was charming when he wanted to be—usually when there were pretty girls around. Since there were no other masculine voices, she wondered if there were any other men here besides Marcus.
She glanced up at Charlotte, who stood almost a full head taller than she did. When Charlotte nodded, the two of them turned the corner and descended into the great hall.
Isabel took in the room and the enormous, cut stone that comprised the walls, and massive beams overhead which obviously supported the slate roof she saw when their carriages arrived. This part of the castle, while ancient, was clean and in good repair, though still lit with candles in massive chandeliers hanging from the center rafter that bisected the length of the hall.
She saw her brother standing with a group of four women, one seated, the other three standing, and another man who looked to be a few years older than Marcus. They were all congregated around the massive hearth on one side of the long room. A fire blazed inside an opening big enough for Isabel to stand inside. She could almost envision rushes on the floor and giant Scottish hounds laying next to the laird of the estate, seated upon a throne. This part of the castle was surely as ancient as it looked. The mantle above the fire was a hand-hewn, enormous solid log that was built into the stone surround. On the wall opposite the hearth hung a massive tapestry featuring the colors and coat of arms for the earldom of Rathcavan—a golden dragon rampant on a background half red, half black.
As she and Charlotte drew closer to the cluster of people near the hearth, she smiled at her Aunt Beverly and Lady Adina who was seated near the fire. The other two ladies, and the man, were in deep conversation with her brother. The ladies turned and smiled when Marcus gestured toward her and Charlotte. The petite blonde, she concluded, was pretty. Very pretty. Her strawberry blonde hair was done in an elaborate chignon atop her head, and wisps of curls slipped her knot which gave her an endearing, youthful look.
Was this Olivia? She could see the familial resemblance to Penelope in coloring. But that was the only common thing. The other girl had curls, where Penny did not. The other girl was more strawberry blonde, not the golden blonde of her friend. The other girl was also petite and curvaceous, much like Isabel herself. Penelope and Charlotte were both tall and willowy.
She and Charlotte greeted Aunt Beverly, and Charlotte made her excuses for Penelope, saying she was still tired from the trip, but was sure to be fine tomorrow.
“Gowrey, if my great-niece is still not feeling well after a night’s rest, you must make her well. We hunt next week, and I know she’s a game lass, and has likely been looking forward to the hunt as much as these other two ladies.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man said through a smile after giving her a mock bow. Isabel thought he was very handsome. Tall and lean, like her brother, he had dark auburn curls, worn unfashionably short.
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