Suzanne Robinson Read Free

love. If you’re that bothered, I’ll go stop this mischief.” Liza’s hand slipped into his, and he felt her squeeze his fingers.
    Jocelin lowered his arm to study him, then glanced at Dallas as if asking for his consent to the idea. “What do you think, old chap?”
    Dallas’s lazy blue gaze settled on Nick. “Well, sir, if anyone can disrupt a lady’s marriage, it would be Nicholas.”
    “What does that mean, toff?” Nick straightened and glared at Dallas.
    The Southerner bowed. “I was complimenting your perseverance and your intelligence, sir. And, of course, I’ve witnessed for myself how you charm the ladies without even trying.”
    “Blow that,” Nick said. “You was implying I’d interfere with me best friend’s sister. Well, I’ll have you know Georgiana is a spoiled little miss who needs whipping, not worshiping.”
    “Don’t go aripping and atearing at me, sir.”
    Nick was still scowling at Dallas. “Just you remember. I don’t go fishing in blue-blooded ponds. Wouldn’t have to do with any of them simpering, afraid-of-the-sun delicates. I’m only going because of me friends here.”
    “I never doubted it, sir.”
    Nick’s scowl faded only to return when he found both Liza and Jocelin grinning at him. Liza stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.
    “You’re a dear, Nick.”
    “Thanks, old chap,” Jocelin said.
    Nick shrugged. “This heat was about to blister me insides anyway, and I was missing me studies. I got a lot of schooling to make up.”
    “You will stop her, won’t you?” Jocelin asked, his voice strained. “I love her dearly, and I can’t bear to think of her ruining her life.”
    “Never fear, love. Threshfield and I are friends. I put him onto a few sweet business arrangements. I’ll get meself invited to his house and put him off the marriage if I have to lag him.”
    “Lag him?” Dallas asked.
    “Send him to jail, toff.”
    “You’ll have to be firm,” Liza said. “Georgiana’s as stubborn as Jocelin.”
    “Can’t abide a stubborn woman. If she comes over me with her nonsense, I’ll dodge her good.”
    “I hope that means you won’t let her bully you,” Jocelin said.
    Nick stuck his thumbs into his gun belt and sauntered to the door. “Never met a woman who could.”
    “My, my, my,” Dallas said. “I wish I was going to be there to see it—the lady against the barbarian.”
    “Who you calling a barbarian, toff?” Nick deliberately changed his accent to the clipped, precise one of a Cambridge graduate, straightened to an imitation of Jocelin’s military bearing, and said, “Really, old chap, one adapts one’s manner and speech to one’s company. My compliments to you, sir. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to my packing. A pleasant and restful day to you, my dear Jocelin, my lady.”
    With a last smile at Dallas, who was staring at him openmouthed, Nick strolled out of the room.

2

    England, September 1860
    Deep in the countryside of Sussex, nestled in the midst of vast acres of private forest and park, lay the great country seat of the earls of Threshfield. Threshfield House contained the earl, the earl’s sister, his nephew, his nephew’s wife, and their son, all of whom the earl could do without. The only occupant of his vast eighteenth-century home that his lordship smiled upon was, at the moment, standing in a dark hall stacked high with packing crates.
    She was a tall young woman who sometimes forgot her training and attempted to hide her stature by walking bent forward at the waist. She wore gold wire-rimmed spectacles that brightened her already astonishing green eyes. Yet the studious air the glasses gave her prevented people from discerning the vulnerability that often appeared in those jewel-bright eyes. Perhaps her air of stately dignity protected her from exposure.
    Dim light filtered into the corridor through gaps in the heavy velvet curtains drawn over the tall windows at either end of the hall. Trying to see by a