The Corinthian by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online
Authors: Georgette Heyer
schoolboy!'
'You look like one. Now put what you have in that bundle into the cloak-bag, and we'll be off.'
'I have a very good mind not to go with you,' said Miss Creed, glowering.
'No, you haven't. You are now my young cousin, and we are wholly committed to a life of adventure. What did you say your name was?'
'Penelope Creed. Most people call me Pen, but I ought to have a man's name now.'
'Pen will do very well. If it occasions the least comment, you will say that it is spelt with two N's. You were named after that Quaker fellow.'
'Oh, that is a very good idea! What shall I call you?'
'Richard.'
'Richard who?'
'Smith—Jones—Brown.'
She was engaged in transferring her belongings from the Paisley shawl to the cloak-bag. 'You don't look like any of those. What shall I do with this shawl?'
'Leave it,' replied Sir Richard, gathering up some gleaming scraps of guinea-gold hair from the carpet, and casting them to the back of the fireplace. 'Do you know, Pen Creed, I fancy you have come into my life in the guise of Providence?'
She looked up enquiringly. 'Have I?' she said doubtfully.
'That or Disaster,' said Sir Richard. 'I shall know which when I am sober. But, to tell you the truth, I don't care a jot! En avant, mon cousin!'
It was past midday when Lady Trevor, accompanied by her reluctant husband, called at her brother's house in St James's Square. She was admitted by the porter, obviously big with news, and handed on by him to the butler. 'Tell Sir Richard that I am here,' she commanded, stepping into the Yellow Saloon.
'Sir Richard, my lady, is not at home,' said the butler, in a voice pregnant with mystery.
Louisa, who had extracted from her lord a description of Sir Richard's proceedings at Almack's on the preceding night, snorted. 'You will tell him that his sister desires to see him,' she said.
'Sir Richard, my lady, is not upon the premises,' said the butler, working up to his climax.
'Sir Richard has trained you well,' said Louisa dryly. 'But I am not to be put off so! Go and tell him that I wish to see him!'
'Sir Richard, my lady, did not sleep in his bed last night!' announced the butler.
George was surprised into indiscreet comment. 'What's that? Nonsense! He wasn't as foxed as that when I saw him!'
'As to that, my lord,' said the butler, with dignity, 'I have no information. In a word, my lord, Sir Richard has vanished.'
'Good Gad!' ejaculated George.
'Fiddle-de-dee!' said Louisa tartly. 'Sir Richard, as I suppose, is in his bed!'
'No, my lady. As I informed your ladyship, Sir Richard's bed has not been slept in.' He paused, but Louisa only stared at him. Satisfied with the impression he had made, he continued: 'The evening attire which Sir Richard was wearing yesterday was found by his man, Biddle, upon the floor of his bedroom. Sir Richard's second-best top-boots, a pair of buckskins, a blue riding-coat, his drab overcoat, and a fawn coloured beaver, have all disappeared. One is forced to the conclusion, my lady, that Sir Richard was called away unexpectedly.'
'Gone off without his valet?' George demanded in a stupefied tone.
The butler bowed. 'Precisely so, my lord.'
'Impossible!' George said, from the heart.
Louisa, who had been frowning over these tidings, said in a brisk voice: 'It is certainly very odd, but there is no doubt some perfectly reasonable explanation. Pray, are you certain that my brother left no word with any member of his household?'
'None whatsoever, my lady.'
George heaved a deep sigh, and shook his head. 'I warned you, Louisa! I said you were driving him too hard!'
'You said nothing of the sort!' snapped Louisa, annoyed with him for talking so indiscreetly before a palpably interested servant. 'To be sure, he may well have mentioned to us that he was going out of town, and we have forgotten the circumstance.'
'How can you say so?' asked George, honestly puzzled. 'Why, didn't you have it from Melissa Brandon herself that he was to call—'
'That will do,
'You look like one. Now put what you have in that bundle into the cloak-bag, and we'll be off.'
'I have a very good mind not to go with you,' said Miss Creed, glowering.
'No, you haven't. You are now my young cousin, and we are wholly committed to a life of adventure. What did you say your name was?'
'Penelope Creed. Most people call me Pen, but I ought to have a man's name now.'
'Pen will do very well. If it occasions the least comment, you will say that it is spelt with two N's. You were named after that Quaker fellow.'
'Oh, that is a very good idea! What shall I call you?'
'Richard.'
'Richard who?'
'Smith—Jones—Brown.'
She was engaged in transferring her belongings from the Paisley shawl to the cloak-bag. 'You don't look like any of those. What shall I do with this shawl?'
'Leave it,' replied Sir Richard, gathering up some gleaming scraps of guinea-gold hair from the carpet, and casting them to the back of the fireplace. 'Do you know, Pen Creed, I fancy you have come into my life in the guise of Providence?'
She looked up enquiringly. 'Have I?' she said doubtfully.
'That or Disaster,' said Sir Richard. 'I shall know which when I am sober. But, to tell you the truth, I don't care a jot! En avant, mon cousin!'
It was past midday when Lady Trevor, accompanied by her reluctant husband, called at her brother's house in St James's Square. She was admitted by the porter, obviously big with news, and handed on by him to the butler. 'Tell Sir Richard that I am here,' she commanded, stepping into the Yellow Saloon.
'Sir Richard, my lady, is not at home,' said the butler, in a voice pregnant with mystery.
Louisa, who had extracted from her lord a description of Sir Richard's proceedings at Almack's on the preceding night, snorted. 'You will tell him that his sister desires to see him,' she said.
'Sir Richard, my lady, is not upon the premises,' said the butler, working up to his climax.
'Sir Richard has trained you well,' said Louisa dryly. 'But I am not to be put off so! Go and tell him that I wish to see him!'
'Sir Richard, my lady, did not sleep in his bed last night!' announced the butler.
George was surprised into indiscreet comment. 'What's that? Nonsense! He wasn't as foxed as that when I saw him!'
'As to that, my lord,' said the butler, with dignity, 'I have no information. In a word, my lord, Sir Richard has vanished.'
'Good Gad!' ejaculated George.
'Fiddle-de-dee!' said Louisa tartly. 'Sir Richard, as I suppose, is in his bed!'
'No, my lady. As I informed your ladyship, Sir Richard's bed has not been slept in.' He paused, but Louisa only stared at him. Satisfied with the impression he had made, he continued: 'The evening attire which Sir Richard was wearing yesterday was found by his man, Biddle, upon the floor of his bedroom. Sir Richard's second-best top-boots, a pair of buckskins, a blue riding-coat, his drab overcoat, and a fawn coloured beaver, have all disappeared. One is forced to the conclusion, my lady, that Sir Richard was called away unexpectedly.'
'Gone off without his valet?' George demanded in a stupefied tone.
The butler bowed. 'Precisely so, my lord.'
'Impossible!' George said, from the heart.
Louisa, who had been frowning over these tidings, said in a brisk voice: 'It is certainly very odd, but there is no doubt some perfectly reasonable explanation. Pray, are you certain that my brother left no word with any member of his household?'
'None whatsoever, my lady.'
George heaved a deep sigh, and shook his head. 'I warned you, Louisa! I said you were driving him too hard!'
'You said nothing of the sort!' snapped Louisa, annoyed with him for talking so indiscreetly before a palpably interested servant. 'To be sure, he may well have mentioned to us that he was going out of town, and we have forgotten the circumstance.'
'How can you say so?' asked George, honestly puzzled. 'Why, didn't you have it from Melissa Brandon herself that he was to call—'
'That will do,
Similar Books
Fall of the Mortals (Book 1)
Ken Bush
Impractical Jokes
Charlie Pickering
Highbridge
Phil Redmond
Six
Hilary Storm
Queenmaker
India Edghill
Dreams Die First
Harold Robbins
Pleasure
Adrianna Dane
Accepted
Coleen Lahr