A Wicked Gentleman Read Free

her voice quiet. “May I point out, my lord, that Stephen left the sole guardianship of our children to me. If I consider a trip to London to be in their best interests, then that is my decision, not the family’s.”
    The earl’s pink complexion darkened to a deep red, and a vein stood out on his temple. “Lady Dagenham, I will brook no opposition in this matter. As his trustees, we are responsible for Viscount Dagenham, my grandson, during his minority—”
    â€œYou are mistaken, my lord,” Cornelia interrupted with an upraised hand. She was very pale now, and her eyes, usually a warm and sunny blue, were bleached with a cold anger. “I and only I am responsible for my son during his minority. That was a decision my husband and I made together.” She placed her hand in her lap, holding herself very still, her eyes never leaving the earl’s.
    He leaned forward, and his own gaze was narrowed as he stared at her. “That may be so, madam, but your trustees hold the purse strings. You can do nothing without funds, and I promise you, ma’am, those funds will not be released for such an irresponsible jaunt as this.”
    â€œIndeed, Cornelia, do but consider.” A new voice joined the confrontation, but with a conciliatory edge to it. “You have no real experience of town. A single debutante season cannot give you the sophistication, the town polish you would need for such an excursion.”
    Gray eyes twinkled, a soft hand reached across the table to pat her arm. “Be sensible, my dear. Three inexperienced women, country mice all of you, would be eaten alive. You could not possibly manage to get about town…” A hand waved expressively. “Just think of all the little details, all the financial issues of hotels and carriages…matters that you have never had to trouble yourself about. You cannot make such a journey without a man to advise you.”
    Cornelia rose from her chair. “You mean well, Uncle Carlton, and I thank you, but believe me, my lords…” Her cold gaze swept their faces. “You underestimate these particular country mice. I intend to take my children to London for a month, whether you release the funds from the trust or not. I bid you good afternoon.”
    She bowed, a mere inclination of her head, and swung away towards the door, ignoring the earl’s outraged rumble of expostulation, the scrape of chairs on wood as the trustees came hastily to their feet.
    She took satisfaction from closing the door very gently behind her, but then all pretense of calm left her. She stood still, drawing several deep breaths, then swore softly but with all the fluency of a mariner.
    â€œI take it matters didn’t go your way, coz?” A soft voice spoke from the shadows beneath the curving staircase.
    As the man stepped into full view, Cornelia regarded her late husband’s first cousin with a rueful half smile. Tall and gangly, with a loose-limbed athleticism, Nigel Dagenham was an attractive young man straddling the line between boyhood and manhood. His present costume of violently striped waistcoat and impossibly high cravat made him look a lot younger than he realized, Cornelia reflected, closing her eyes for a second against the dazzle of puce and purple. He would do a lot better to revert to the casual country styles he had worn before going up to Oxford.
    â€œHow did you guess?” she said with a shrug.
    â€œYour admirable command of expletives,” he returned. Then he grinned, looking even younger than before. “My uncle has a carrying voice, and I confess I was a little close to the door.”
    Cornelia couldn’t help but laugh. “You had your ear pressed to the keyhole, you mean?”
    â€œNot quite,” he said. “But surely it comes as no surprise that the trustees would refuse to let you take Stevie out of their jurisdiction?” His slate gray eyes were sympathetic. He had