Amy Lake by Lady Reggieand the Viscount Read Free Book Online Page B

waltz, then conversed rather freely with him during the course of musicales and a fete and now— 
    What should I say to him? I wondered, as we made our way off to our own private bit of the room.  I seemed to be aware of every breath he took, every slight movement of the muscles of his arm under my fingertips.
    “So this is your grandfather?”
    The painting was above us, the old earl looking down with a suspicious twinkle in his eyes.  I’ve always like this portrait, actually.  I felt more connection with the old earl, whom I had never met, than my own parents, and the twinkle suggested that my grandfather might have had something in mind that he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to tell you. 
    “Yes.”
    “One cannot regret that wigs are less in style these days,” said the viscount. “I understand them to have been hot and rather itchy.”
    “I can only imagine,” I replied. and we spent an enjoyable few minutes commenting, as people always do, on how odd everyone looked dressed in an older fashion.  Embroidered collars and cuffs!  Hoop skirts and panniers!  The changes in le mode had been rather extreme from the old earl’s day to our own.
    “I did not know my grandfather,” I admitted, “but I’ve been told that he had a keen enjoyment of life.”  So it was said by my father, in a tone that left no doubt of his disapproval.  Perhaps that was the true reason he had banished the painting to this out of the way corner, and never had it cleaned of candle soot. 
    “Ah.  Somewhat like his granddaughter, then?” said Lord Davies.
    I glanced at the viscount in surprise, and saw a half smile upon his face.  The smile did not diminish his attractiveness.  I felt my heart begin to race and wondered if he could feel the thrumming pulse through my fingertips. 
    I managed an answer.  “One tries.”
    A soft laugh.  “Indeed.”
    There was little more to be said about the painting, and so I cannot explain what I did next, other than I did not want these moments together to end. 
    “I’ve also been told,” I said, “that he once risked half his fortune on the turn of a card.” 
    My parents had hinted that some few of my grandfather’s actions did not bear close scrutiny, but the old earl was not an accepted topic for conversation in our family, so what details I knew had arrived through Lady Helen. 
    “Ah.”  The viscount’s eyebrows raised.  “So the stories are true.”
    “About my grandfather?”  Perhaps I should not have been so surprised that he was already aware of the gossip.
    Lord Davies chuckled.  “No, I assure you I’ve heard nothing of that gentleman.  But you must know what they say—that our own generation is but a faded reflection of former glories.”
    “Fustian.  They always say that,” I countered.  “I believe I’ve read it in Aristophanes.  And why is risking one’s life on a card game considered a good thing?”
    “Oh, I dare say ’tis not.  But—”
    He paused.  “Yes?” I encouraged.
    “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would feel like—to take such a leap?”
    I think he spoke these words without thinking.  Perhaps he had been as lulled as I by the ease of our conversation, by the sense that we had been always been good friends.
    Friends?
    Neither of us said anything for a long moment.  Then he spoke.
    “So.  Your grandfather played deep?”
    I attempted a light tone, to return our exchange to more suitable ground.  “Yes.  He fell in love with the daughter of a duke, but the Aveline wealth was not quite large enough to tempt his grace into approving the match, and she became affianced instead to the eldest son of a marquess.” 
    “Ah.  A sad tale which is all too common, I’m afraid.”
    “To be sure.  But my grandfather convinced the eldest son to join him in a game of cards, and attempted to draw him in far enough to . . . well to switch roles, I suppose.”
    “What happened?”
    “My grandfather lost.”
    “Ah.”
    A