An Early Engagement by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

as ditchwater, with minds as stilted as the social conventions they worshipped. “Is he still hoping for a preferment?”
    Geoffrey laughed. “Not after this week, I’d guess, to hear him rant about all of us ramshackle Stocktons ruining his chances of advancement. What a dust-up there was.”
    “About your being sent down again? What has that to do with—”
    “That ain’t the half of it. They were already up in the boughs when they got here, and well, there’s no wrapping it in clean linens, the manor ain’t in prime gig. Something about mice and cobwebs and the ceiling falling on Cynthia while she’s in her bath. Aunt Adelaide got her all calmed down enough for sherry before dinner, in the ‘good’ parlour. Only Nadine decided it was a good time to show Thornton she’s old enough for a season in London.”
    “Oh, no!”
    “Oh, yes. Red dress, damped petticoats, painted cheeks, and tossing off Madeira like it was mother’s milk.”
    “What did Thornton do?”
    “You know that look he gets when he’s going to start a sermon? Eyes raised to heaven, hands clasped in front of him, a big breath so he won’t have to pause for hours? Well, he takes his big breath and sneezes—the dust, don’t you know—and spills his glass all over Cynthia, who’s hopping up and down and screaming so loud that more plaster comes down.”
    Emilyann was laughing so hard she could barely get out the words, but she just had to know: “What about Aunt Adelaide? Did she ‘go off’ as usual?”
    Geoffrey grinned back. “Of course. Right over on the couch. I didn’t hang around to hear anymore.”
    “Coward!”
    “Genius, you mean. Besides, I thought you might want Everett’s present.”
    “Smoky sent a present? Why didn’t you say so, you gudgeon! How is he, and where, and is he coming home?”
    “Slow down. He’s fine, I think, from what I could get out of Thornton, who, incidentally, insists we call Ev Stokely now, as befits his title.”
    “Oh, pooh, as if Smoky would ever stand on his dignity!”
    Smiling, Geoff handed her a rumpled package from his saddlebags. “Well, he is a captain now, in addition to being an earl. Here, this one’s for you. He sent one for Nadine and Aunt Adelaide, too, and a bang-up knife with designs etched up and down the blade for me.... Thornton said it’s called a mantilla,” he explained as Emilyann unwrapped a gossamer length of sheer white lace and an ivory comb. “The Spanish ladies wear them in their hair.”
    Emilyann tenderly covered the lace again in its paper before it got soiled. “It’s beautiful. Is Smoky still in Spain, then?”
    “No, and that’s what set Thornton off in the first place. Old Ev is in London, or he was, at any rate. He’s supposed to leave tomorrow. He had two or three days’ leave only, presenting papers to the War Office from Lord Wellington, so he could not come north.”
    “Just enough time to cut a swathe through London, I’ll wager!”
    “And have Thornton running to the bishop. Then Thorny thought he could give big brother a lecture on what was due the family name, and how he ought to sell out and see to the properties. I don’t know what he thinks Ev can do, when we all know his pockets are as much to let as ever, what with paying off the governor’s mortgages so we don’t lose the estate altogether, and my allowance and—I say, Emmy, are you all right?”
    Big tears were splashing onto the wrapped package. “I ... I don’t have a handkerchief.”
    “And that’s why you’re turning into a watering pot?” he asked, offering his none-too-fresh cloth. Years of living with his sister and aunt had cured him from turning into a blancmange at the sight of feminine weeping. “I never thought you’d be one to go all missish, damned if I did.”
    “Danged,” she sniffed, before explaining about her father’s wretched will and Uncle Morgan’s greed and the threats, and Bobo.
    “Why, that bleeding—sorry, that bleating