Rexanne Becnel Read Free Page B

produced little income, just enough to keep the house up and a few servants employed.
It would never be a grand place, but the grounds were glorious, and when she married, control of it would pass entirely to her. For practical purposes it already had.
    She closed her eyes now and tried to remember it: a gray stone house, covered with centuries of moss and vines; wild hills, green valleys, and bright, rushing streams. Her father had been an avid sportsman, and according to Augusta their life in Scotland had been good. But Mrs. McCaffery’s version was different. Drinking. Gambling. Womanizing. If it had seemed worse in London, it was only that he’d hidden it better in Scotland.
    As a child Olivia had only seen that her mother was beautiful and her father dashing. But as time passed, she’d come to understand. Her father had not been a man suited for marriage. Perhaps that was why she analyzed the young men of the ton so carefully now. She did not wish to repeat her mother’s mistake.
    Despite her father, however, Byrde Manor was still the best part of her early childhood, and it had been left in trust to her. The thought of going there now filled Olivia with unexpected longing. How ironic if she found a husband among the Scottish half of her heritage. She suppressed a chuckle. Her socially aware mother had been jesting, but it would serve her right should it turn out that way.
    She turned to face Augusta. “I believe for once that you and I are in complete agreement. Sarah is tired of town. I’ve been wanting to go to Byrde Manor, and you shall have your Archie all to yourself. Even James must approve this plan.”
    “Really, Olivia. You talk as if I can only interest Archie by getting him away from any other females. Nevertheless, I agree. A country house party is just the thing. You’ll have to go ahead of the rest of us, however, to prepare the house.”
    “Yes, and I can take Sarah.”
    “You’ll need to hire extra servants.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “And air out the bedchambers. And wash and bleach the linens.”
    “I’m quite able to run a household, Mother.”

    Augusta patted Olivia’s cheek and gave her a sweet smile. “So you are, darling. So you are. And I shall miss your competent handling of our domestic affairs when you finally marry. Some fine lord is going to be very lucky when you deign to bestow your hand upon him.”

CHAPTER 2
    NEVILLE Hawke jerked awake. His heart thudded with the sharp staccato of gunfire. His eyes darted around at the oppressive thunder of cannons.
    But it was not cannon fire that besieged him, he realized as his head cleared. He heard three low echoing gongs. The tall case clock down the hall near the head of the stairs tolled the early morning hour.
    He shuddered, then took a slow, shaky breath. All was as it had been. All was as it should be.
    He pushed up from the deep leather chair and on unsteady feet headed for the liquor cabinet. The fire in the grated hearth had burned low, but the two oil lamps shone brightly still, and in his wood-paneled study they kept the dark at bay.
    He ran a trembling hand through his unkempt hair. Thank God this accursed night neared its end. Thank God it was summer and the days were so long. Just two more hours or so and he would once more have defeated the unforgiving night.
    He poured a short tumbler of whisky and tossed it back with quick efficiency. It burned his tongue and throat, and all the way down to his belly, and he shuddered anew at the harsh bite of the raw spirits. From the finest Scotch whisky, to the Duncan brothers’ potent brew, to the locally made whisky distilled up the road in Fergus’s shed, his choice in deadening agents had declined of late from smooth and subtle to strong and effective.
    But nothing was effective enough to completely erase his memories or fight off these nightmares. No matter how hard
he drove his body with work, or how heavily he sedated his brain with liquor, he could not escape these night