Kate Noble by Compromised Read Free Book Online Page A

wandered at their leisure and found themselves on a before unknown bit of path. After twisting and turning through wooded areas, they came upon a beautiful, shaded grotto, with a newly installed gazebo in its center, in the popular ruined style. On that late spring day, the budding vines winding up the gazebo’s stone columns were a light green, but the sunset made them glow as if on fire. Max found himself in awe of the dazzling slices of red mixed with gold and hazels cutting through the trees. The colors captivated him, the air itself seemed to stop. He could only hear the sounds of birds rustling and Jupiter shifting his weight, not the overbearing noise of London’s streets. In that moment, Max felt as if he were the sole person on this earth.
    All too soon, the light left the trees. He hated to leave the peaceful grotto, but once the sun had dipped below the horizon, the park quickly became very dark, and very cold. Wishing he had some breadcrumbs to place so he could find his way back to the serene spot, Max turned Jupiter about, and headed for home.
    Having deposited his horse back at the corner stables, Max strolled the short distance back to his bachelor quarters. The air of peace the grotto had given him still surrounding his mind, Max hummed a bit of Beethoven as he walked up the front steps.
    His lodgings were located on Weymouth Street, near Regent’s Park and the grand winding avenue of the same name. It was not the most fashionable part of town, but for Max it was a haven for that very reason. His family connections and title allowed him to mingle freely in society—although he was never the star of any party, he was someone who could fill an empty seat well enough, and therefore did not lack invitations. His club was most agreeable to his membership, as long as his dues were paid. But when he came home at the end of the day, Max’s rooms were a sanctuary. There were no mews, but the rent was agreeable. His apartments occupied the ground floor of a thin, three-story house—the second and third floors were let to a young musician with a taste for the pianoforte and an old scholar working on his thousand-page treatise, respectively. He had a parlor with his bedroom beyond, and a small room for Harris, his valet. But what drew Max home night after night was the cozy study full of wonderfully musty books, and best of all—no stamp of his father’s rigidity anywhere. It was all he required. It was all his own.
    He strolled through the door.
    “Good evening, Harris.”
    “Good evening, sir.”
    “I’m afraid I’m running late tonight,” Max said as he handed his hat and gloves to his valet, “I’m dining with Mr. Holt at the club, so please send for a hack directly.”
    Harris cleared his throat and moved to intercept his employer. Harris had been with Max as long as Max had been in London, even through those years where pay was equivalent to that day’s meals. He was getting older, but for a man of certain years, Harris moved uncommonly quickly when necessary. He cut a surprised Max off at the mouth of the drawing room.
    “Sir,” he said, “a guest arrived while you were riding. I installed him in the study.”
    Max finally noticed the gravity on Harris’s face. The man was usually quite serious, bordering on dour, but today he looked downright bereaved.
    A weight settled onto Max’s shoulders, all the joy from his beautiful ride draining away. Only one person could unsettle Harris. He knew who was behind those doors across the narrow foyer, but not what kind of aggravations awaited him.
    “Well then,” he said, trying to sound jovial for his valet’s benefit. “Best to get it over with, eh?”
    Harris nodded, and Max managed a weak smile. Pushing open the study doors, Max encountered the one man he had long sought to avoid.
    “Close the door, you dratted fool! A sick old man cannot be subject to a breeze.”
    His father.

Five
    MAX closed the study doors behind him. His father was seated