Discreet Young Gentleman by M.J. Pearson Read Free Book Online Page B

cant affected by some of the gentry. He would have to grit his teeth and hope the man could pass. In a way, he supposed, it was good to test this out before they reached Bath. But did it have to be in front of his best friend?
    Dean directed Erich to unhitch the horses and take them back to the Stonehurst stable, then rapped on the door of the coach. "Horse threw a shoe," he said briefly when Rob appeared. "You may as well come with me."
    Dean tried to contain his apprehension as they approached the wide stone steps leading up to Stonehurst's front door. The house was a three-story box with no pretension of architectural grandeur, built of the local honey-colored stone sometime within the past century. It was comfortable and practical rather than stylish, with windows and fireplaces appearing exactly where needed instead of where they'd make the best effect. There was little wonder Peter's home was usually filled with guests.
    Today was no exception. The door flew open in response to his knock, revealing neither staid butler nor imperious footman, but someone Dean vaguely recognized from Cambridge. "Christ's balls!" the young man cried, cravat-less and smelling faintly of brandy. "If it isn't Dean Smith. How are you, Smithy? Peter! Not you—the other Peter. Peter! Look what I found on your doorstep!"
    Peter Chesterfield came at a run, sliding on stocking feet into the man in the doorway. "Well, come in, Dean! You remember Dick Cobblehill?" Dean nodded at the man who had opened the door, but his host didn't stop for breath, waving his hand toward the game room down the hall, source of greatest noise. "House party this week—you know, grouse season opening and all that. Good hunting this morning. We were going to do more shooting after luncheon, fell into a billiard tournament instead.
    How are you?"
    There was a roar from the game room, over which an agonized whoop could be heard. "Damnation!" Dick Cobblehill turned and ran, shouting back over his shoulder at them. "That's St. Dennis out. I'm up next."
    Peter rolled his eyes, taking Dean by the arm and pulling him toward the front parlor. "I've been out of the standings for almost an hour. Come, let's have a drink and I'll think where to put you and—urn." He turned to Rob. "Do I know you?"
    "Robert Black," Dean offered quickly, searching his mind for the story they'd agreed on and coming up blank. "He, uh, went to school with me."
    Peter looked a trifle confused, as well he might. "Oh? Then he went to school with me, too. Harrow or Cambridge? I'm afraid I don't quite recall."
    "Harrow," Rob said, shaking Peter's hand with easy warmth. "Of course you don't remember. I was quite dreadful back then, fat and spotty. You were all hideous to me, calling me the worst names."
    "Blobby?" Peter threw back his head and shouted with laughter. "You're not Blobby, are you? But you must be: Robert, Bobby, Blobby. Of course!"
    Rob grinned. "I prefer 'Rob' nowadays."
    "I imagine you do." Peter cuffed his shoulder good-naturedly. "You certainly have improved. Brandy? Whisky? Hock?"
    "A brandy would be delightful, thanks."
    Dean declined a drink, not certain his hands wouldn't tremble on the glass from their near miss. He felt a reluctant admiration for Rob's quickness in salvaging their story. The man was definitely a fast thinker, and good with words. "We can't stay long.
    I came to surrender the Walton, and my horse threw a shoe. Do you have a farrier on staff?"
    "Yes, of course. Don't you? I heard you're at Carwick now." Peter grinned, making an exaggerated bow. "My lord earl! You weren't even Honorable when I first knew you. Which makes two of us, of course. Is the Little Stream still well-stocked? I'll have to come down for a visit. You can't be giving up the Walton. I don't believe it."
    "Give my wife a chance to spruce the place up, and you're most welcome. Uncle Parmenius rather ran it into the ground since you last saw it."
    "Wife? That piece of news I hadn't heard. Congratulations!