Read Online Worth Winning by Parker Elling - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Parker Elling
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bet was turning him into some sort of obsessive . . . harasser. A pest. A nag.
“Pardon?” Robeson adjusted his position on one of the chaise lounges ever so slightly, swirling in a cup something that might once have resembled tea. It was milky and almost viscous with sugar, which made it hard to discern its identity.
Robeson’s tone sounded bored and unaffected, but Charles was not so easily fooled.
“Don’t prevaricate. Clearly, there is a history between the two of you.” He paced as he spoke, noting the faded hues of what must once have been a rich Persian rug.
Robeson took the spoon out of his cup and put it back into the sugar bowl, leaving it there to contaminate the entire container. “What has the chit said?”
“Nothing.” Charles moved a chair so that he could sit in front of Robeson and force eye contact. Then he waited. He watched as Robeson looked down and around and then to either side of the room, as if the answer were tucked away behind one of his chair cushions.
Robeson pursed his lips. “She had a youthful infatuation. One that did not end well.”
Charles was quiet. Not for a moment did he believe that was all there was to the story. Julia Morland didn’t seem like the kind of woman who succumbed easily to one-sided infatuations. “She doesn’t seem the type.”
Robeson raised his eyebrows, as if to say: maybe she isn’t the type when it comes to you . But Charles was not convinced. “I’ve only met her twice, but I know women, and I say again: she doesn’t seem the type to make calf eyes at someone without encouragement.”
Robeson put his cup down and then spread his hands wide. “I’m not one to brag, but it was a bit of an embarrassment, really.” Robeson chuckled, as if he’d said something particularly witty. “She made quite the nuisance of herself, babbled her head off any time I was around until I could barely stand to go to the larger gatherings. She was always trying to impress me with trivia about this or that, astrology or astronomy, something along those lines. Apparently she thought of herself as a burgeoning scholar and thought that I would be impressed or perhaps find her desirable for her . . . mind.”
Charles forced his face to remain blank. It was disconcerting that Robeson was painting a familiar version of Julia, and though part of him suspected Robeson was still lying, still hiding something, there was now enough truth mixed in that it would be a difficult mixture to separate.
“It must have been what, seven, eight years ago?” Robeson lounged farther back in the cushions and tried for a look of nonchalance. He waved generally at the room around them. “This particular estate was owned by an eccentric aunt of mine I’d only met a handful of times. The property wasn’t entailed, and she’d never had any children of her own.”
“Yes, yes, you charmed your aunt into . . .”
“Nothing of the sort. According to her, I was the ‘least offensive’ relative she had. So she promised me the estate. She wrote, asking me to visit the estate so she could go over some details. You’ll remember, or perhaps not, that I was a third son. I didn’t think I’d ever inherit anything else. That’s how I met”—there was a briefly, slightly artificial pause before he continued—“Miss Morland. She wasn’t all that young. My sister was only a year older and already had a child, but, well, you’ve met her. I doubt the vicar and his wife ever seriously considered playing matchmaker or anything of the sort. She was, even then, already more interested in constellations than courtship.”
Charles snorted. “Except when it came to you?”
Robeson flashed a smile. “I was young.” He shrugged and leaned farther back, stretching one long leg up until it rested on the end table. “Bored. The first few times we met, she always had her nose buried in her books, and it seemed . . . an interesting way to pass time.”
“To make her fall in love
“Pardon?” Robeson adjusted his position on one of the chaise lounges ever so slightly, swirling in a cup something that might once have resembled tea. It was milky and almost viscous with sugar, which made it hard to discern its identity.
Robeson’s tone sounded bored and unaffected, but Charles was not so easily fooled.
“Don’t prevaricate. Clearly, there is a history between the two of you.” He paced as he spoke, noting the faded hues of what must once have been a rich Persian rug.
Robeson took the spoon out of his cup and put it back into the sugar bowl, leaving it there to contaminate the entire container. “What has the chit said?”
“Nothing.” Charles moved a chair so that he could sit in front of Robeson and force eye contact. Then he waited. He watched as Robeson looked down and around and then to either side of the room, as if the answer were tucked away behind one of his chair cushions.
Robeson pursed his lips. “She had a youthful infatuation. One that did not end well.”
Charles was quiet. Not for a moment did he believe that was all there was to the story. Julia Morland didn’t seem like the kind of woman who succumbed easily to one-sided infatuations. “She doesn’t seem the type.”
Robeson raised his eyebrows, as if to say: maybe she isn’t the type when it comes to you . But Charles was not convinced. “I’ve only met her twice, but I know women, and I say again: she doesn’t seem the type to make calf eyes at someone without encouragement.”
Robeson put his cup down and then spread his hands wide. “I’m not one to brag, but it was a bit of an embarrassment, really.” Robeson chuckled, as if he’d said something particularly witty. “She made quite the nuisance of herself, babbled her head off any time I was around until I could barely stand to go to the larger gatherings. She was always trying to impress me with trivia about this or that, astrology or astronomy, something along those lines. Apparently she thought of herself as a burgeoning scholar and thought that I would be impressed or perhaps find her desirable for her . . . mind.”
Charles forced his face to remain blank. It was disconcerting that Robeson was painting a familiar version of Julia, and though part of him suspected Robeson was still lying, still hiding something, there was now enough truth mixed in that it would be a difficult mixture to separate.
“It must have been what, seven, eight years ago?” Robeson lounged farther back in the cushions and tried for a look of nonchalance. He waved generally at the room around them. “This particular estate was owned by an eccentric aunt of mine I’d only met a handful of times. The property wasn’t entailed, and she’d never had any children of her own.”
“Yes, yes, you charmed your aunt into . . .”
“Nothing of the sort. According to her, I was the ‘least offensive’ relative she had. So she promised me the estate. She wrote, asking me to visit the estate so she could go over some details. You’ll remember, or perhaps not, that I was a third son. I didn’t think I’d ever inherit anything else. That’s how I met”—there was a briefly, slightly artificial pause before he continued—“Miss Morland. She wasn’t all that young. My sister was only a year older and already had a child, but, well, you’ve met her. I doubt the vicar and his wife ever seriously considered playing matchmaker or anything of the sort. She was, even then, already more interested in constellations than courtship.”
Charles snorted. “Except when it came to you?”
Robeson flashed a smile. “I was young.” He shrugged and leaned farther back, stretching one long leg up until it rested on the end table. “Bored. The first few times we met, she always had her nose buried in her books, and it seemed . . . an interesting way to pass time.”
“To make her fall in love
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