How to Marry a Rake by Deb Marlowe Read Free Book Online

when a mortar hit it. Burned by exploding gunpowder, scarred by molten metal, and with the addition of a load of shrapnel in his right leg, it had been nearly a year before he could be moved.
    Matthew had continued to fight, struggling to heal at home, but heartbreakingly, had lost his leg last year.
    ‘I dare say cadavers have looked better than I did when last I saw you.’ Matthew laughed. ‘But I feel a damned sight better, I don’t mind telling you.’
    ‘And glad I am to hear it.’
    ‘What’s that I heard about the Jockey Club? Hoping to wiggle your way in?’
    ‘Hoping to
earn
my way in,’ Stephen corrected. Matthew already knew about Fincote. He took a minute to explain his hopes regarding Pratchett. ‘Ryeton’s champion is my best hope for a spectacular launch, but barring that sort of instant notoriety and success, membership in the Jockey Club is the next best way for me to establish Fincote as a racecourse of repute.’ He sighed. ‘It’s a significantly longer path, though.’
    Matthew grinned. ‘You’re young yet, Manning.’
    ‘Were it only me I had to worry about, I’d have the patience of Job.’ Stephen had to work to hide his anxiety from his friend. ‘I know I wrote to you about the conditions I found at Fincote.’
    But he hadn’t, really. Even if he’d been so inclined, there had been no way to put down on paper what he’d discovered or how it had made him feel. Why hadn’t he checked in on the estate when he’d first inherited it? He knew why, but still he’d cursed himself a thousand times for allowing Fincote’s people to become as helpless and hopeless as his mother had been.
    ‘I convinced them to go along with my plans,’ he continued. ‘They deserve to finally see some returns for their labours.’ He sighed. And then he returned Matthew’s grin as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘But enough about me. This
is
a night for unexpected comings and goings.’
    He glanced across the ballroom. Mae stood slim and tall in the corner, a bright candle amidst a crowd of sober-clad gentlemen. Let her shine her light on them—as long as she didn’t start aiming it at him again.
    He glanced about. ‘But never tell me you’ve come alone? After the difficult time your mother has experienced, I would have thought she’d enjoy a spot of society.’
    Matthew frowned. ‘You would think so, but she hasn’t thrown off her mourning yet.’
    ‘Not yet? But surely it’s been … yes, well over a year since your father passed on.’
    ‘True.’ Matthew sighed. He slapped his thigh where the extra length of his breeches was neatly pinned over the peg that replaced the rest of his leg. ‘But I vow,she’s mourning this leg of mine as deeply as she does my father.’ He sat silent a moment. ‘She’s convinced my life is over as well.’
    Stephen’s jaw tightened against a surge of resentment. He’d felt this before, on behalf of his friend. Matthew’s mother’s sentiments reminded him painfully—and infuriatingly—of his own mother’s maudlin excuses. Weak, defeatist drivel. It put his back up and made his gorge rise.
    But Matthew’s face had hardened. He looked up at Stephen with a glower. ‘I’m here to prove her wrong.’
    Stephen relaxed. ‘She couldn’t possibly be more wrong.’ He grinned to lighten the mood. ‘Does she know how frightful a dancer you always were?’ He gestured to his friend’s elaborately carved peg. ‘Surely you can do as well with that contraption as you ever did on your own two feet.’
    Matthew gave a startled chuckle. After a moment it turned into a genuinely rueful laugh. ‘No, this is the perfect excuse to give up dancing.’ He eyed Stephen’s blond hair, cut far shorter now than when he’d been living a fashionable life in London. ‘But I still have my wits about me and a damned good head of hair above them. Surely there’s a young lady or two who won’t mind sitting out a set.’ He sighed. ‘Or there’s always the card