The Unexpected Bride by Elizabeth Rolls Read Free Book Online Page B

Only the odd glitter in his eye betrayed the state of his temper. To any not intimately acquainted with him he appeared amiability itself.
    George, having tried to hold him in as tactfully as possible, bowed to the inevitable and grinned at his friend’s recommendation, merely saying, ‘You’ll havethe devil of a head in the morning! I’m going back to the ballroom. You never know. I might meet the girl of my dreams on the dance floor!’
    ‘More likely meet a sticky end!’ said his lordship sardonically, raising his glass in salute.
    He watched George depart and then turned back to the room in search of amusement. Someone tapped his shoulder. ‘Hello, Manders,’ he said, recognising a comrade from Peninsular days. ‘Rubber of piquet?’
    His friend demurred without hesitation. ‘Not with you, Darleston! Even when you’re foxed, you play out of my league. Wouldn’t even be entertaining for you! But I don’t mind taking you on at dice.’
    ‘Whatever you please, old boy, but first I think I’ll find some more brandy!’ said his lordship agreeably. He caught at a passing footman. ‘Do you think you could find me a bottle of brandy? You could? Splendid!’
    He turned back to his companion. ‘There we are! What more could we ask for?’
    Manders grinned. ‘Well, a couple more people to liven up our game, do you think? Here’s your cousin Frobisher with a friend. Shall we ask them?’
    In point of fact the last person in the world that Darleston would have chosen to dice with was his cousin Jack Frobisher, but he responded politely.
    ‘Dear boy, whatever you wish.’ He beckoned to Frobisher, saying, ‘Good evening, Cousin. Manders and I are going to have a little game of dice. Do you and your friend care to join us?’ He looked closely at the young man accompanying Frobisher. The youth was vaguely familiar, lank sandy hair, a chin which the charitable might have described as weak but wasin reality non-existent. Darleston searched his memory. Young Ffolliot, that was it.
    Unable to detect any hint that the young man was in mourning, he asked curiously, ‘Heard you’d lost your father a while back, Ffolliot, but I suppose it’s only a rumour?’
    ‘Oh, Lord, no. It’s true enough. Couldn’t see much point in going into all that business of mourning when the whole world knows we didn’t get on!’ was the unconcerned answer.
    Darleston was taken aback. Such casual disregard for a parent’s death was nothing less than shocking. He cast his mind back. He had been only slightly acquainted with John Ffolliot, but his memory was of a kindly man with a well-developed sense of humour. Hardly the man to engender dislike in his offspring! In fact he recalled that the last time he’d seen the elder Mr Ffolliot he had been driving his daughter in Hyde Park.
    That was right! It all came back now! He’d danced with the chit at Almack’s and then spoken to her in the park. Met her at a concert too. Red hair, well, auburn anyway, and dreamy grey eyes. That was the girl! It occurred to him that there had appeared to be no lack of affection between father and daughter.
    In a tone that was little less than a rebuke he said, ‘Then perhaps you would be so good as to convey my condolences to your sister, Mr Ffolliot? I am sure from what I have seen of her that she held her father in considerable affection and respect. Now, shall we play dice? I have my own set here.’
    Ffolliot turned red with anger, but a nudge from Frobisher recalled him to his senses, so he sat down at the table with the other three. Darleston raised hiseyebrows slightly, but held his tongue. He produced his dice and the game began.
    At first the luck all went Frobisher’s way. A pile of guineas grew steadily in front of him, to the annoyance of his friend Ffolliot, who grumbled continuously. Eventually, tired of the incessant whining, Darleston said lazily, ‘Mr Ffolliot would appear to resent your luck, Cousin. Surely not the part of a good