Carola Dunn by The Actressand the Rake Read Free Book Online Page A

details of their residence at Addlescombe.”
    “Courtenay said he’s not staying,” Aubrey Philpott pointed out querulously, smoothing with a manicured hand the tresses disordered in his agitation.
    “I’ve changed my mind,” Miles announced. If he hadn’t already decided to stay, the thought of that counter-coxcomb inheriting and letting the rich fields of Addlescombe go to rack and ruin would have persuaded him.
    How difficult could it be to live for six months without women or the cards? He knew men who were addicted to gambling, who would wager large sums on raindrops trickling down a window-pane, or the colour of the next carriage to turn a certain corner. Others, outwardly less reckless, drank while they played until their skill and judgement were destroyed. Miles himself gambled to win. Carefully calculating odds, he avoided brandy and never imbibed more than his bottle of claret during a night at the tables.
    Lady Luck was notoriously fickle, yet for several years he had kept himself in reasonable comfort on the proceeds of the cards.
    However, if caution prevented ruinous losses, it equally made the winning of a fortune unlikely. Sir Barnabas had offered him that chance, and all he risked was six months of virtuous tedium. In London he might have doubted his ability to resist temptation. At Addlescombe there were no actresses to lure him from the path of righteousness.
    He was perfectly prepared to believe Miss Wingate’s claim that she was no actress. Her beautifully articulated speech was the only hint that she might have been on the stage, and in his vast experience most Thespians dropped into the sloppiest way of talking off stage. Recalling the screeches, whines, and foul language of Charmaine and Dorabel, he grinned.
    If Sir Barnabas had expected Miss Wingate to cause his fall, he had missed his mark. Not only had she turned out to be a respectable young woman, she was not at all the sort of flamboyant female who attracted Miles.
    Which was not to say that he hadn’t taken a liking to her. She had more spirit than he would have expected beneath that meek, drab exterior.
    He bowed ironically as Sir Neville passed on the way to the door, supporting his wife. The new baronet’s scowl reminded Miles that it wasn’t only his godfather’s sermons that had driven him away from Addlescombe. The jealous dislike of the rest of the family had not made his visits any pleasanter.
    Miss Sophie was another matter. She gave him a timid smile and stepped towards Miss Wingate, her hand held out. Euphemia grabbed her arm.
    “Come, Sophie, we must discuss what is to be done about this shocking situation.” She stalked out with her sister in tow.
    Mr Harwood had moved two of the straight, shield-back chairs closer to the desk and now he invited Miles and Miss Wingate to take them.
    “A moment, sir,” said Miles. “Could this conference possibly be postponed? I have had no breakfast, and Miss Wingate neither breakfast nor, I suspect, dinner last night.”
    “Not to mention no sleep,” she added with a grateful glance. “I fear, sir, I shall not understand the half of what you tell me.”
    “My dear Miss Wingate, how sadly remiss of me! We lawyers become so involved in our own concerns, we tend to forget the human needs of others.”
    “It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “We only arrived just in time for the reading of the Will and it didn’t seem possible to ask that it be delayed while we ate.”
    “No, indeed.” Mr Harwood sighed. “I regret to say I am compelled to follow the late baronet’s stated wishes in every respect. However,” he said, brightening, “if you have no objection to a tray in here, nothing forbids your eating while I describe your situation to you in general terms. The details may wait until you have rested. Pray ring the bell, Mr Courtenay.”
    Miles obliged.
    “Will not Lady Philpott dislike our eating in the library?” Miss Wingate asked anxiously.
    “Lady Philpott,