Autumn Glory and Other Stories by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

family was in the breakfast parlor the next morning, having seen Iselle and her new fiancé off to an early, private departure.
    Irma was dressed in jonquil muslin when she took her place at the table. Before buttering her roll, she took a scrap of paper from her pocket. “Oh, Mama. I found this in the library when I returned a book this morning. You know how you wished for a sample of Mr. Frye’s writing, since he responded to your invitation in person, recall? It seems to be a bill of sale to Lord Wingate, if I make it out correctly, so perhaps I should just see it returned. Dobbs mentioned that the two gentlemen were in the library late.”
    “Making inroads in my best brandy, too,” Lord Bannister grumbled. “Bill of sale, you say? Let me see that, missy.” He held the paper one way, then the other. “Blasted chicken scratches, if you ask me.
    “You are simply too vain to wear your spectacles,” his life’s companion sniped from the opposite end of the table. “Hand it here.”
    “‘Bag filled by Sneeze or Crud?’ What in tarnation? Blast! It must mean a bay filly by Breeze out of Crusader! By damn, that blighter’s gone and sold Wingate the yearling I wanted!”
    “Oh, pooh, Isa, what’s another horse? Let me see the handwriting.”
    “What’s another horse? You might as well ask what’s another arm or leg, Irene! I wanted this horse, and that dastard knew it. Hang it, I can’t make out the sale price. I offered the blackguard five hundred pounds, and he turned me down.”
    “Five hundred pounds for a horse?” Lady Bannister shrieked, jumping out of her seat.
    “A thousand? Could that be a thousand?” The baron whistled. “Dash sight higher than I wanted to go. And instruction in fencing on Mars? What the blazes?”
    Lady Bannister reached her husband’s end of the table and snatched the paper out of his hands. “Let me see that, you blockhead. I’m the expert.” She took the page over to the window. “Faugh, what a mess. Not even being in one’s cups is an excuse for such a mishmash. Yes, one bay filly, um hm, for the sum of one thousand pounds, hm, and…and an introduction to Fancine O’Mara.”
    “Why, that dirty dog! The filly I wanted and the highest flyer in London town!”
    “What’s a high-flyer, Papa?” Irma asked, earning glares from both parents. Inessa had gone pale; now she started crying into her serviette. “You mean she’s a…a courtesan?”
    “Go to your room, Irma,” Lady Bannister ordered. “You are too young for this conversation.” Still intent on the blotted sheet, she never noticed that Irma stayed. Wild horses could not have dragged her away.
    “Blast, the filly I wanted.”
    “Fancine O’Mara. Look at all these splotches and blots, a sure sign of a disordered temperament. Those lust-laden loops, the prurient penultimates, the prodigal pressure. And yes, the margins are definitely miserly. Why, the man is a cad!”
    “He’s never going to be welcome at one of my hunts, I can tell you that.”
    “And he’s never going to be welcome in my house, and you better tell him that, too.”
    “Me tell him?”
    “Well, you didn’t think I was going to let an old reprobate like your friend come calling on my sweet Inessa, did you? My pure, unsullied darling? No, I’d rather see her lead apes in hell than be besmirched by one such as he, even if she spends the rest of her days helping the vicar with his charity work.”
    Just as Inessa wailed that she didn’t want to die a spinster, Viscount Wingate walked into the room, dressed in riding clothes.
    “Pardon,” he said, “but I was up early, and your butler said I might break my fast here. I can see you are having a family talk, though, so I’ll just—”
    Irma assured Winn that he was welcome, to help himself to the sideboard and take up a seat. Lady Bannister glared at her, recalling she’d been dismissed. Lord Bannister glared at the viscount, thinking how the bloke had all the blunt in the world,