A Gentleman's Honor by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page B

know how many times we’ve had the doctor to the house. And then Harry, well, he has a tendency to lie—one never knows if the house really is on fire or not. And as for Matthew, he is only eight, you understand, if we could just stop him from locking the doors after people, and slipping around the house at night—we’ve lost three parlor maids and two housekeepers, and we’ve only been in town for five weeks.”
    Tony looked into her face, into her green eyes so determinedly guileless, and struggled not to laugh. She was a terrible liar.
    He managed to keep a straight face. “Have you tried beating them?”
    “Oh, no! Well, only once. They ran away. We spent the most awful twenty-four hours before they came home again.”
    “Ah—I see. And do I take it these demons are your responsibility?”
    Head rising, she nodded. “My sole responsibility.”
    At that, he grinned.
    She saw. Frowned. “What?”
    He lifted her hand from his sleeve, raised it to his lips. “If you want to scare gentlemen off, you shouldn’t sound so proud of your three imps.”
    Her frown would have turned to a scowl, but her sister came up on Geoffrey’s arm and effectively distracted her. Adriana’s court trailed behind; within minutes they were once more part of a fashionable circle, within whose safety Alicia remained, shooting the occasional suspicious glance his way until, deeming his duty on all counts done, he bowed and took his leave.

THREE
    H E REPAIRED TO THE B ASTION C LUB.
    With a sigh, he sank into a well-stuffed leather armchair in the library. “This place is a godsend.”
    He exchanged a glance with Jack Warnefleet, ensconced in another chair reading an issue of The Sporting Life , savored a sip of his brandy, then settled his head against the padded leather and let his thoughts roam.
    To his life—what it used to be, what it now was, most importantly what he wanted it to be. The past was behind him, finished, brought to a close at Waterloo. The present was a bridge, a transition between past and future, nothing more. As for the future….
    What did he truly want?
    His mind flashed on snippets of memory, a sense of warmth in company, of rare moments of closeness punctuating long years of being alone. Of camaraderie, a sense of shared purpose, a passion for life as well as justice.
    Dalziel and his mention of Whitley had brought Jack Hendon to mind. The last he’d seen of Jack he’d been firmly caught in his lovely wife’s coils, trooping, gesticulating and protesting, at her dainty heels. A vision of Kit with their elder son in her arms, Jack hovering protectively over them both, swam through his mind. And stuck.
    Jack and Kit were coming down to London this Season; they’d be here within a few days. It would be good to
    see them again, not only to renew old friendships but to refresh his memory, to sense again how a successful marriage worked.
    The restlessness that for a few hours had been in abeyance returned. Draining his glass, he set it aside and rose. With a nod to Jack, who returned a salute, he left the library and the club.
    At that hour London’s streets were quiet, the last stragglers from the balls already at home while the more hardened cases were ensconced in their clubs, hells, and private salons for what was left of the night. Tony walked steadily, his strides long, his cane swinging. Despite his self-absorption, his senses remained alert, yet none of those hanging back in the shadows made any move to accost him.
    Reaching his house in Upper Brook Street, he climbed the steps, fishing for his latch key. To his surprise, the door swung open.
    Hungerford stood waiting to relieve him of his coat and cane. The hall lights were blazing. A footman stood to the side, still on duty.
    “The gentleman who called this morning has returned, my lord. He insisted on waiting for your return. I’ve put him the library.”
    “Dalziel?”
    “Indeed, my lord.”
    From Hungerford’s tone, it was clear that he, no