Storm by Jayne Fresina Read Free Book Online Page A

tranquil, "She's my new housekeeper, so you can wash your mind out."
    " Housekeeper ?"
    "That's right. Mrs. Blewett spends most of her time at Roscarrock now working for my father, so I decided to hire someone new." Deverell folded his arms, which made his shoulders seem even wider. "Best of luck to you at the auction tomorrow...plucky little fellow. I can't help but admire your optimism against all odds."
    "We Restaricks were here long before your family came along and started buying up the land with your crooked coin, taking over."
    "Everything must change eventually. That's what keeps the world turning."
    It was somewhat amusing to see one man standing there placidly, while his competitor danced about as if he had hot stones in his boots. "Let me know where you hire the help these days, Deverell. Wouldn't mind a housekeeper like that one myself. Although I'd wager she was expensive, eh? Probably too costly for everyday use."
    "I've warned you before, you get what you pay for. Cheap labor is false economy."
    "Ma," Flynn protested, "don't scrub me skin orf!"
    She hastily returned to her chair and a few moments later Storm Deverell came back indoors.
    "Bloody Restaricks," he chuckled, and then proceeded to whistle that jolly tune again. He finally finished tucking in his shirt, slipped into a corduroy waistcoat plucked from the back of his chair, and then dropped his seat to a low footstool by the fire and began scrubbing his boots with a hand brush. "Can't help pitying the fool. He and his brother have their hands full trying to pay off the debts their no-good, horse-thieving father left them. But Joss won't take charity. Too proud."
    She looked down as she buttered the second slice of bread he'd cut for her. "You mentioned your father...he lives nearby?"
    "At Roscarrock Castle, out on the small island a few hundred yards from shore. You would have seen the place if you travelled along the coast road. When the tide is in, Roscarrock is cut off from the mainland, except by boat."
    "That's the place we saw, Ma! It's like a fortress in a story," Flynn warbled through a wide yawn. "Like an ogre's castle, you said. Remember?"
    Of course she remembered the sight of that sinister, dark silhouette against the blood red sunset last evening as they traveled along the coast road. And now she realized where she'd heard the name "Deverell" before. As the name was matched with the image of that castle, it all clicked into place with a jolt.
    "Your father is True Deverell ?"
    He didn't look up from scrubbing his boots. "Aye. Try not to hold it against me." Then he laughed and resumed his tuneful whistle.
    "What's a True Deverell?" her son murmured sleepily. "Why'd ya say it like that, ma?"
    "I didn't say it like anything, for goodness sake! He's just a man...a well-known man of business." How did one describe True Deverell? He was a filthy rich, self-made man with a scandalous past that included divorce and being shot at by one of his own children.
    He was also the creator and owner of "Deverell's"— the most exclusive gentleman's gaming club in London. Kate knew all about it, because hardly a day had passed without Bert Soames mentioning that place and his grievances against its notorious owner. He was jealous of Deverell's success, naturally. Although Soames considered himself a man of great cunning and business acumen, in truth he couldn't get out of his own lumbering way. His personal, clumsy greed, grubby business dealings and the inability to think ahead meant that Albert Soames remained in the gutter, while the mysterious True Deverell— who also came from poor beginnings—continued to rise up.
    These days, so the newspapers said, Deverell was wealthy enough to do anything he wanted, and so dangerously hot-tempered that nobody dare try to stop him. His offspring were said to be no tamer than he.
    Yet here one of his sons lived in humble style, pretending to be a working man, innocently leaving his door open, chatting genially,