Edith Layton Read Free Page B

wealth. He’d taken off his beautifully fitted jacket and unwound his elaborate neckcloth and discarded it, as he always did when he wasn’t in company. The fine linen shirt he wore showed he was still muscular, if a bit thicker around the waist then when Daffyd had met him. But he was fit, and though a few gray hairs now showed in his brown hair, his dark blue eyes were as keen as ever.
    “Avoiding the subject doesn’t change it, Daffyd,” he’d said softly. “She came to you for a favor and you elected to try to do it for her. That’s good, and I’m proud of you for it.”
    Daffyd had grunted something, and reached for his glass of port. He didn’t want to discuss the matter and so focused instead on his host.
    Geoffrey hadn’t looked much like an earl when they’d met, but he hadn’t been one then, or thought there was much chance he’d ever be. No place on earth could have been further from where they sat that night either. Because they’d met in Newgate prison. Familiar territory for Daffyd, but Geoffrey Sauvage had never seen anything like it. That had formed the basis for their association. Not much else could have.
    Their situations couldn’t have been more different, though their fates would be the same. Both had committed crimes the Crown punished by death. But Geoffrey had all unknowing been accused and convicted of a crime committed by a relative who wanted his title and estate. Daffyd had actually committed his crime, and many others besides. Geoffrey was said to have stolen a silver snuffbox, but he hadn’t even known where it was hidden when the Runner found it in his house. Daffyd definitely had plans for the stolen pound note he’d been arrested with in his pocket. Geoffrey had been a sober man of business, Daffyd a petty thief from the streets of London. Geoffrey was university educated. Daffyd was ignorant of most things except for those that would get him food and a place to sleep out of the rain.
    And most of all, Geoffrey had been a grown man with a son Daffyd’s age, imprisoned with him for the same crime. Daffyd had been a boy with less than a dozen years to his name.
    But Daffyd had known one thing Geoffrey and his son didn’t: how to survive in prison. After all, he’d done it many times before. And so then, for that brief time, he and his adopted brother in crime, Amyas, had been able to help Geoffrey and his son. In return, they’d gotten the one thing they didn’t have: the power and protection of a grown man in a place where muscle meant survival as much as cunning did.
    It had been a better bargain for them than that. A noble relative of Geoffrey’s had influence that spared him the hangman’s noose. He’d gotten that pardon for Daffyd and Amyas, too. They’d been transported to Botany Bay instead of dancing on air at the end of a rope. And though that fate could have been just as lethal, they’d defied the odds. They’d survived and prospered just as their partnership did.They became rich and returned to England again: Geoffrey to become earl of Egremont, Daffyd and his brother to become young men about town.
    They’d arrived in England only the year before. Daffyd’s world had changed once again. Now, he was wealthy and free, but for the first time in his life, alone. Oh, he had a suite in this great palace of a manor house reserved for him, and another one in Geoffrey’s London townhouse. He had his own flat in London as well. What he didn’t have were his two boon companions: the earl’s son, Christian, and his first “adopted” brother and fellow street rat, Amyas St. Ives. He’d lost them both to marriage. They were still his brothers indeed. But their lives belonged to their lovely wives now, and Daffyd wouldn’t have wanted it any other way—except on nights when he was especially at loose ends.
    The earl had leaned forward and held Daffyd’s gaze. “Your mother wants to mend matters with you,” he’d said gently. “I don’t think it matters if