The Rake of Hollowhurst Castle by Elizabeth Beacon Read Free Book Online Page A

told her with a glint in his eyes that looked very unbrotherly indeed.
    â€˜Exactly how old do you think I am, sir?’ she asked defensively.
    â€˜Hardly out of the schoolroom,’ he replied, with a wolfish smile that gave his words the lie.
    â€˜I’m four and twenty and on the shelf. I dare say I could take up residence at Mulberry House without any chaperone but my maid and nobody would raise an eyebrow except you.’
    â€˜There you’re very much mistaken, my dear, but if you choose not to be visited or invited out, I dare say you’ll grow used to the life of a recluse,’ he replied ruthlessly, but at least she’d wiped that annoying, indulgent-of-female-folly grin off his face.
    Impatient of the petty rules of society she might be, reclusive she wasn’t, and hated to admit he was right. She could live so, but it’d be a very limited existence and she was too young to embark on a hermit’s career.
    â€˜I’m not your dear, Sir Charles, and will thank you to address me in proper form.’
    â€˜You have no idea what you are just yet, Miss Courland, and I suggest you take a few weeks to find out before you launch yourself into local society as their most scandalous exhibit,’ he retorted brusquely.
    â€˜You could be right, but this subject is becoming tedious, or do you want me to put that admission in writing and have it published?’
    â€˜No, I want you to behave yourself,’ he informed her as sternly as if she was fourteen again and he her legal and moral guardian, not the biggest rogue to break a score of susceptible hearts every time he came ashore.
    â€˜Really? And I just want you to go away so that I can start my new life,’ she snapped back, smarting at the idea of all those unfortunate, abandoned females and how nearly she’d become one of them.
    â€˜Then want must be your master,’ he said laconically and lounged against the intricately carved fireplace, since she’d omitted to invite him to sit.
    She was about to spark back at him, regardless of the fact she must get on with her neighbours in future and he’d be the most important of them, but a rustle of silk petticoats announced a new arrival and stopped her.
    â€˜Good morning. I believe you must be Miss Courland?’ a lady very obviously with child greeted her from the open doorway.
    Roxanne sprang to her feet and offered the stranger a seat, trying to feel as overjoyed at so timely an interruption as she ought to be.
    â€˜I couldn’t make anyone hear so I’m afraid I invited myself in,’ her visitor told her with an engaging smile.
    Roxanne could see no resemblance whatsoever toSir Charles Afforde about the lady’s warm golden eyes and heart-shaped face and searched her mind for any possible clues as to her identity. She doubted the lady was related to him and was obviously far too respectable to be a left-handed connection. Not that he’d sink so low as to install his pregnant mistress at the Castle before Roxanne had quit it, she decided with weary resignation.
    â€˜Pray forgive me, Miss Courland, I’m Mrs Robert Besford of Westmeade Manor, but please call me Caro. My husband and Sir Charles have been friends since they were unappealing brats in short coats, so I barged in, since I couldn’t wait any longer to make your acquaintance.’
    Roxanne could see no reason why a boyhood friendship between this lady’s husband and Charles Afforde should make her and Mrs Besford friends, too, but found it impossible to snub the vivacious young woman or refuse the warm understanding in Caro’s golden-brown gaze.
    â€˜I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs Besford,’ she said, holding out her hand in greeting and having it firmly shaken by one that looked too small and slender to contain such strength and resolution.
    â€˜Caro,’ her new friend insisted and Roxanne smiled back.
    â€˜Then I must be Roxanne, Caro, for