Ashlyn Macnamara Read Free Page A

to confess, I’ll have a listen.”
    “I never held much with religion. Too many diversions count against you, you know. But if the vicar offered brandy to his parishioners, he might find he had a more faithful flock.” They tramped up the front steps in the wake of two footmen juggling a trunk. The sight reminded him of his sisters and their mother’s advice to pack their entire wardrobe. “I say, who have you invited to this gathering?”
    “Entirely too many, but Julia thought we ought to show a bit of hospitality. If I can interest a few of the men in acquiring some horseflesh while they’re here, it may all be worth it. She’s invited her sister, of course,and my brother, and since we’ll be entertaining an earl and a marquess, naturally half of polite society saw fit to beg an invitation whether we wished to see them or not.”
    George suppressed a groan. “That means my mother will insist on putting my sisters on display. Tell me your pianoforte’s out of tune. They might actually sound decent for once.”
    “As a matter of fact, Julia just had someone look at it.”
    “Better order another case of brandy, one I can reserve for my own personal use.”
    Revelstoke closed the door to his study and strode to a side table where a cut crystal decanter stood full of rich amber liquid. He poured two healthy measures and handed George a glass. George stared into the swirling depths and considered downing the alcohol in one go. No, best not to over-imbibe or else he might confess more than necessary.
    Revelstoke clinked glasses and raised his drink. “Come now. What’s brought you here and in this state?”
    “Seems my mistress forgot to tell me a thing or two. Like the fact she has a brother who doesn’t quite appreciate his sister being a kept woman.”
    “It’s not as if you’re the man who ruined her.” Revelstoke raised a brow. “Are you?”
    “Of course not, and you shouldn’t even have to ask. I draw the line at leading innocents astray.” He stared out the window to the greenery beyond the crosshatch of the mullions. Along a whitewashed fence, mares grazed surrounded by their cavorting foals. “I’m not Lucy’s first protector, and I certainly won’t be her last.”
    “Then why would her brother have a problem with you in particular?”
    George sipped at his brandy to play for time. “I didn’t come here to discuss my problems with my mistress.”
    The look Revelstoke gave him clearly communicated his skepticism. “Then why are you here?”
    “I can’t visit an old school chum, especially considering you never come into Town?” He set his glass on a burnished oak table. “Why, you practically forced me to make the trek out to this godforsaken corner of Kent.”
    “The last thing I’d expect of you is to attend something so respectable as a house party, especially considering chances are quite high your sisters will torture us with their musical talent. So what is it?”
    Revelstoke knew him too well, damn the man. “How’s the horse-breeding business going?”
    “It’s flourishing.” He nodded toward the pastoral scene just beyond the window. “Ask Julia to show you about the place later, and you’ll see all the improvements we’ve made with the profits. But you’re no more interested in acquiring a horse than you are in attending a house party.”
    George snatched up his glass for a fortifying drink. “I was wondering, since you’re doing so well, if it was possible to spot me a loan.”
    Revelstoke tore his attention away from the window. “How much do you need?”
    Another mouthful. His last. “Five thousand pounds.”
    Revelstoke spit out his brandy. “Five thousand? Good God, man. What makes you think I can afford to hand you that sort of blunt?”
    “Could you see your way clear to lending me a thousand, say, or five hundred?”
    “I daresay you stand a better chance, yes.” He marched back to the sideboard in search of the cut-glass decanter. “But what on