Emily and the Dark Angel by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online

your friends, a fortune. Last count, lodgings here were at least two hundred for the season and stabling costs a guinea a week. You’ll be bringing, what?—at least six horses each?”
    “At least,” Chart said blithely. “Father would never sport the blunt for Melton, but now ...”
    “But now you’ll be able to pool your resources,” Verderan completed. “Excellent idea.” He looked pointedly at Harry and saw his school-day training still held.
    “Of course we’ll be paying our share at Corny’s,” Harry said quickly. “Food, fodder, and all that.”
    Chart looked mildly surprised, but he was a kind-hearted young man, if careless, and he quickly assented. “Gods, yes. Good enough of Corny to put us up. No need to put him to extra expense.”
    A few incoherent mumbles came from their host and were ignored. “So what are you doing here so early, Verderan?” asked Chart.
    “Business,” said Verderan. “I too have inherited a place nearby. But for the moment I’m staying at the Old Club.” He looked at them and found himself saying, “If you promise not to blow your noses on the tablecloth you may dine with me there tonight.”
    Despite their attempt at sophistication, three faces flushed with color and three pairs of eyes shone. “I say, that’s damned decent of you, Ver,” said Harry.
    “Yes, it is,” said Verderan brusquely. “Don’t make me regret it.”
    The trio correctly took this as dismissal and made themselves scarce while Verderan wondered if it was a sign of senility, this tendency to be so disgustingly kind to people. More likely it was a lingering effect of the morning’s adventure. He was never coming within a mile of Poudre de Violettes again.
     
     
    The three ecstatic young men ducked into the nearest inn and commanded the best October ale.
    “What a piece of luck!” declared Chart. He turned to Corny. “ Course we’d never have had a chance of dining at the Club if it was the season.”
    “ ’Course not,” said Corny earnestly.
    “Dining there’s only for the best. Might get in after for some drink and play, mind you, particularly if Randal were here.”
    “Randal won’t be here,” pointed out Harry. “Just married.”
    Chart looked shocked. “You think he’ll miss the whole season?”
    “Unless he brings Sophie,” Harry said.
    “Ladies don’t take to Melton much,” advised Corny.
    “True enough,” said Chart, “but you never know with Sophie. Besides, you wouldn’t think Randal would want to be with her all the time, would you? Dashed queer, if you ask me, and devilish inconvenient. We need a sponsor to be in at the best.”
    Chart and Harry started an analysis of their family and friends and found it singularly disappointing. They were both well connected. Chart was the grandson of the Duke of Tyne; Harry was the son and heir of Viscount Thoresby and connected through his mother to Lord Liverpool and the Tory establishment.
    None of this, however, was the slightest use in Melton. Here one needed a connection to Belvoir, Lord Lonsdale or Sefton, Assheton-Smith or Pierrepoint. All of which were depressingly lacking.
    “Mr. Verderan?” offered Terance tentatively.
    The other two looked at him in shock. “Oh no. Too risky,” said Chart. He leant forward slightly. “Word to the wise, Corny. He’s a dangerous man.”
    Terance’s look was a question.
    “Dueler. Killed his man twice. Never lets anyone cross him.”
    Terance swallowed. “Seemed . . . seemed a pleasant sort of fellow.”
    “Yes,” said Chart thoughtfully. “Damned strange.”
    “Oh, come on,” protested Harry. “He can be dashed pleasant. I tell you, I was grateful to get him at Eton. Never ran me ragged, and though he’s got a tongue like a knife, he never laid a hand on me.”
    “Had a running feud with Osbaldeston that’s the talk of the school still,” pointed out Chart. “Broke his arm. Went after Swallowton and flogged him when he wouldn’t fight.”
    Harry went a