Unveiled by Courtney Milan Read Free Book Online

Likely, Margaret thought bitterly, with him, they would be. Life seemed to rain gifts on this man. Wealth. Station. Legitimacy.
    Margaret didn’t think she would have dared to dislike him, had he not taken so much from her. She looked away, feeling petty.
    â€œMiss Lowell. You have my apologies. We’re boring you.”
    Her eyes cut back to him. “No. Of course not.”
    â€œYes, we are. It’s either that or we’re upsetting you. I won’t stand for either. Come now. What is it?”
    â€œIt’s just…” She searched for an answer that would satisfy him. But as she looked into his face, all thoughts of lies disappeared. “You are the most cheerfully ruthless individual I have ever met.”
    A big grin spread over his face, and he gave a guffaw. “Cheerfully ruthless! I like that. Should I adopt it as my motto? Would it look well on my coat of arms? Mark, how do you say ‘cheerfully ruthless’ in Latin?”
    â€œNequam quidem sumus,” his brother intoned. It was the first he’d spoken all evening, and he said the words dreamily. Up until that point, she’d thought he was the fine young scholar that he appeared—a little distracted, and wiry-thin. But Margaret had spent time around her brothers when they came home fromEton—enough to recognize a few words of impolite Latin. She choked.
    Mark looked across the table at her, all blond good looks, and dropped her a wink. Margaret revised her estimate of him from “painfully serious scholar” to “mischievous schoolboy.”
    â€œAlas,” the elder Mr. Turner said, “that lacks a certain panache.”
    â€œDon’t you know Latin?” Margaret asked in surprise.
    â€œNever went to school.” He leaned back in his chair. “Never had the time for it. I went to India with a hundred and fifty pounds in my pocket, determined at fourteen to make my fortune. But Mark’s the scholar now.” He turned to his brother, and it was obvious from every line on his face, from the fierce smile that overtook him, that this was no idle boast. No matter what his brother might have said in Latin. “Did you know that he’s writing a book?”
    â€œAsh,” Mark said, with all the unease of a younger brother being praised.
    â€œHis essays have been published in the Quarterly Review; did you know that? Three of them, now.”
    â€œAsh.”
    â€œThe queen herself quoted from one not two months prior. I had that from a friend.”
    â€œAsh.” The younger Mr. Turner ducked his head and put his hand in front of his face. “Don’t listen to him. It was frippery. Pretty language, but nothing original. Nothing to be really pleased about. Besides, she didn’t even remember my name.”
    â€œShe will.” There was a glow in Mr. Turner’s eyes. “When you’re the brother of a duke? She’ll know yourname, your birth date and the number of teeth you had pulled at eleven years of age.”
    Mr. Turner leaned forwards, as if speaking a vow.
    And, she realized, he was.
    Margaret felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. This was what he wanted—not her father’s estate, nor his title, nor even the revenge he’d spoken about. This was where all that ruthless intensity concentrated: on his brother.
    And Mark, for all his teasing, accepted this as his due. He simply took, as a matter of course, that his brother loved him, that he might tease him in Latin and receive this…this powerful endorsement. Mr. Turner would never call his brother useless. Of all the things that the Turners had and Margaret lacked, this camaraderie seemed the most unfair.
    â€œYes,” he said, catching her look. “More of my cheerful ruthlessness, I’m afraid. And now you know my greatest weakness: my brothers. I want to give them everything. I want everyone in the world to realize how perfect they are. They are smarter than