Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman Read Free Page A

was distraught, and bereft, and grieving—not a felicitous combination for any of us.’
    Amanda blinked the tears back from her eyes. ‘Indeed not, Papa.’ Papa might think her strong, but in truth she had barely managed to hold the household together and was still trying to recover her spirits. Oh, how she yearned to escape Ashton Grove, all its problems and sad memories, and lose herself in the distractions of London!
    Though her younger brother had lately arrived to add to her anxieties, Althea remained the most acute of her burdens. Her own feelings depressed and raw after Mama’s death, Amanda couldn’t help wishing she might be rid of the troublesomegirl—a desire Althea probably sensed, which did nothing to ease the tensions between them.
    All her life, she reflected with another pang of grief, she’d been wrapped in a protective cocoon of love and affection spun by her mother and grandmother, buoyed along the floodtide of events by a happiness and security she’d taken for granted until the catastrophes of the last two years—losing first Grandmama, then Aunt Felicia, then Mama—had stripped it from her. Her longing for supportive female company had been sharpened by her difficult relations with her cousin, the only female relative left to her.
    Small wonder she yearned to reach London, where she would be staying with Lady Parnell, her mother’s dear friend whom she’d had known since childhood. Perhaps the affection of this companion from Mama’s own début Season might ease her grief and fill some part of the void left by the last two years’ devastating losses.
    â€˜So you will speak to Althea?’ she pleaded, hoping against hope Papa might be able to head off this new complication. ‘’Tis for her own good, you know. What would Aunt Felicia say if she knew we’d allowed Althea to pursue a most unsuitable friendship with a common sailor?’
    â€˜Yes, I know I must reprimand her, and I will—gently, though.’
    Her chest squeezing in a surge of love for her kindly sire, Amanda couldn’t help smiling. ‘I only ask that you try to guide her, Papa. You know as well as I you haven’t the heart to reprimand anyone, no matter how much she might need it!’
    â€˜I suppose I have been too indulgent. But you’re quite right—it is my responsibility to my dear sister to protect her daughter and counsel her as best I can.’
    â€˜Perhaps you could chat without my being present. She’d probably be more inclined to accept instruction if I’m notlooking on. Well, I suppose I must go inform Cook about the changes in the dinner plans.’
    â€˜I’ll escort you out,’ Bronning said, rising and coming to take her hand. ‘One of my prize mares is about to foal. I think I’ll take myself down to the barn and check on her.’
    Accepting her father’s arm, Amanda walked back down the long hall to the marble entryway with him, her concern about Althea somewhat mollified. Given her cousin’s contemptuous disregard of her, there wasn’t much else she could do but leave the matter in Papa’s hands.
    They had just reached the grand entry when the front door was thrown back so violently it banged against the wall. Staggering across the threshold, Amanda’s brother George stumbled into the room, waving off the footman who sprinted over to take his coat.
    Her father stopped abruptly and eyed his only son with alarm. ‘George, what’s amiss? Have you suffered an injury?’
    With his red face and bleary eyes, hair in disarray, neck-cloth coming undone and his waistcoat misbuttoned, George did indeed look as if he might have been in an altercation—a fear Amanda initially shared, before a strong odour of spirits wafted to her.
    Her initial concern turned swiftly to irritation as she recalled her brother had not appeared at dinner last evening. Most likely he’d