Wicked at Heart by Danelle Harmon Read Free Book Online Page A

brandy to his lips. 
"Another fit, my friend?"
    "It wasn't
a fit, I don't have fits .  It was an attack."  He raked the hair
off his damp brow.  "A heart attack."
    "I
see," the chaplain said patiently, his hazel eyes kind and concerned
beneath his rumpled blond curls.  "Shall I send for the surgeon?"
    "No, he'll
merely look at me as though he thinks I'm imagining it all, as though it's all
in my head, same thing the miserable old wretch tells me every time I summon
him."  Damon lunged to his feet and, leaning against the table's edge,
mopped his brow with a handkerchief.  At least the pain and feelings of
suffocation were gone, as was the horrible, paralyzing panic that went with
it.  "What does he know, anyhow, the worthless butcher, he's not the one suffering these blasted things!"
    "Perhaps
the surgeon is correct,"  Milford mused, unflinching as Damon shot him an
angry, threatening glare.  "I mean, you do tend to let your
imagination get carried away . . ."
    "My father
died three years short of his fourth decade, and my mother ended her days in a London
asylum.  Don't tell me my illnesses are all in my head!"
    "Your father
died in a duel with Lord Aylesbury, Damon, with a bullet in his chest.  And
your mother, from all accounts, was strung more tightly than an overtuned
violin.  Something snapped.  As it will do with you if you do not find some
measure of calmness and serenity.  Now sit down, for pity's sake, and tell me
about this lovely creature who nearly ran me over in the corridor
outside."
    That brought Damon's mind immediately away from his health, as the clever young
chaplain intended it should.
    "Lovely
creature?  Is that what you think of that confounded Jezebel?"
    Peter gave an
infuriating smile.  "I see our opinions differ.  As always."
    "That
'lovely creature' could've led the British Army to victory at Austerlitz,"
Damon snarled, staring out the window with a gaze that threatened to burn a
hole through the smoky glass.  "As it was, the cursed witch nearly
unmanned me.  'Twill be a bloody wonder if I'm ever able to father a child,
now."
    "Yes, well,
since you've no intention of ever marrying and producing an heir, I don't see
why it should matter," Peter quipped, ignoring Damon's furious glare.  He
reached down, picked the Peterson's up off the floor, and with a
disapproving frown, placed it on the table.  "By the way, who was
she?"
    "Lady
Gwyneth Evans Simms."
    The chaplain
paused, then nodded, once.  "Ah."
    "Does that
explain it?"
    "Quite
aptly, I'm afraid."
    Damon refilled
his glass and began to pace slowly back and forth.  "She has apparently
decided that prison ships are a blight upon humanity, and has taken it upon herself
to reform them, starting with ours."
    "Can't say
as though I blame her.  I have long held the belief that the British practice
of imprisoning people on foul and stinking ships is something God must weep over
daily."
    "I know it
is.  Why do you think I have taken steps to put matters aright?"
    "Taken steps ?" 
The chaplain, incredulous, shook his head.  "Be honest with yourself,
Damon.  And with me.  Your so-called actions have nothing to do with any
pretended concern and compassion for those prisoners, and everything to do with
getting revenge on Bolton and humiliating the navy you think has betrayed
you."
    "The navy has betrayed me.  And as for the prisoners and my actions, the end result is the
same, regardless of my incentives.  That's what really matters."
    "Rubbish,
Damon, and you know it."
    "Spare me
the damned sermon, Peter.  It isn't even Sunday."
    "I see I'm
getting too close to your fiercely guarded heart."
    "You know
me well enough by now to know I lack such an organ."
    "Hmm.  Perhaps,
then, a stroll belowdecks amongst those who suffer worse than you will plant
one in that unfeeling chest of yours.  But no.  Such a garden is too stony for
a heart to germinate, let alone flourish.  Forgive me for even suggesting
it."  Peter moved to the