The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) by Jane Godman Read Free Book Online

bad form and all that.”
    Stung by the allegation, Rosie drew herself up to her full height. “I can assure you, Clive, that, even if I felt the emotions you ascribe to me, I have more pride than to allow them to be known.”
    He poured another glass of brandy. “Enough of your rebel lover. About our other arrangement. Two hundred should cover it for this month.”
    Not for the first time, Rosie wondered what society would say if word of their unconventional marital arrangement leaked out. What if the London gossips ever learned that she paid her husband to stay out of her bed? Not that they would hear of it from her, and Clive was hardly likely to boast of the matter. But it only needed a servant to eavesdrop at the wrong moment…
    She forced her mind back to the conversation. Two hundred pounds? It was a preposterous sum, and Clive’s demands were increasing every month. His debts must be greater than she had imagined. Thank God her father had left her well provided for. It was worth every penny to keep those plump, white hands away from her body.
    “Very well. I will have a banker’s draft ready for you by Monday.”
    He tugged at his cravat. “Cash and tomorrow morning would suit me better.”
    Rosie inclined her head in acquiescence. Usually, having got what he came for, he had no desire to linger. Thankfully, as Miss Portal’s pamphlet graphically illustrated, his interests lay elsewhere. When he stayed where he was, looming over her, Rosie’s heart sank. She knew what was coming.
    “Have you considered my other request?”
    Although she had been anticipating this conversation, Rosie had to make a concerted effort to keep the nervous note out of her voice. “I have, Clive, but you know the terms of my father’s will—”
    “Your father’s will is damnable!” He slammed a hand down hard upon the wooden surface of the table. “’Tis monstrous that I, your husband, should have no control over your brother’s fortune. Or your own.”
    In contrast to Clive’s anger, not a day went by when Rosie did not bless her dear father for his foresight in leaving his estate tied up so Clive could not squander her inheritance or Harry’s. Clive’s wanton destruction of his personal legacy and proud name was shameful enough to witness.
    “I receive a generous allowance from the Delacourt estate, one that is adequate for my needs.” She kept her voice calm. When he was in this mood, anything other than level-headedness inflamed him further.
    Clive’s demands that she should seek to break the trust and access the capital of her own and her brother’s fortune were becoming increasingly desperate. She knew his gambling debts were crippling and dared not question him about their sum. His man of business had all but washed his hands of him. Clive’s beautiful family home, Sheridan Hall—once so lovingly maintained by his father—showed such invidious signs of neglect that it was uninhabitable. Instead of living there, they were forced to reside with Lady Drummond, dividing their time between her country house and these occasional trips to her London mansion. It was an arrangement that should have been humiliating. Strangely, for Rosie at least, it wasn’t. She found Lady Drummond a considerate hostess whose company was enjoyable. Clive appeared not to notice his surroundings. If only he could resist the lure of the gaming tables and the whorehouses, he might have been able to restore his fortune and his home. Unfortunately, as the pressure of his dire financial straits mounted, so his addiction to games of chance, his sexual depravity and his wild moods increased.
    “A pittance!” Clive thrust his bottom lip out, the gesture reminding her of one of Harry’s childhood methods of expressing displeasure. “If you will not assist me by breaking the trust, you must at least send word to Delacourt Grange and ask Tom Drury for an increase in your allowance. It is another nonsensical feature of your father’s will