The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress Read Free Page A

squabble that hung over the table along with the aroma of roasted beef. Two years older than Cam, Grace too had long ago learned the wisdom of not distracting Father and thus bringing her own misdeeds to his attention.
    Admittedly they were more often than not quite a congenial group unless the subject arose of Cam’s choice of profession—indeed that he chose to have a profession at all. Or the discussion turned to the fact that none of them was currently married, none of them had any particular prospects for marriage, and none of them seemed to be making any effort to alleviate that situation. Or the occasional indiscretion and mild scandal any of them might be involved in raised its head. Still, Cameron did give his siblings credit as they were usually most discreet. At those times, one would have thought Father’s entire life had been above reproach, which was far from the truth. Although his offspring were usually wise enough not to bring up Father’s less than stellar behavior in his youth.
    â€œJonathon,” his mother said in her best Duchess of Roxborough voice, which had long struck fear into the hearts of her children and husband alike. “It is all I can do to entice my children here once a week. I shall not allow you to spoil it.”
    Father gasped. “I would never—”
    â€œWe agreed this was to be a cordial evening,” Mother continued.
    Cordial or not, dinner every Thursday at Effington House when Cam’s siblings were in London was in the nature of a command appearance. While all the Effington offspring had their own private residences, a constant source of annoyance to the duke, Mother insisted her children present themselves for dinner once a week. Legitimate reasons for absence from this ritual were accepted, but woe be it to anyone who missed more than two consecutive dinners. Nonetheless, this was the first time in more than a month that all of the duke and duchess’s children were seated at the table together.
    Father’s eyes widened in a show of feigned innocence. “I was being cordial.”
    â€œFor the moment perhaps.” Mother’s eyes narrowed. “But I know you, Jonathon Effington. I know exactly how you think and I certainly know that look on your face.”
    â€œI don’t have a look on my face,” Father said under his breath, and speared a piece of perfectly cooked beef with far more vengeance than was necessary. “I don’t know what’s wrong with a father asking a son about his avocation.”
    â€œI believe you mean vocation, Father,” Grace said in a deceptively pleasant manner. There was nothing Grace liked better than throwing fuel on the fire. As long as it was someone else’s fire. “An avocation is a hobby, a vocation is a profession.”
    Father’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “I know—”
    â€œGrandmother is not joining us tonight?” Thad asked in an effort to change the course of the conversation. Cam cast him a grateful look. Thad too thought of himself as a peacemaker.
    â€œI’m afraid not.” Mother sighed. “She was going to retire early as she was quite done in. Some of her friends came by this afternoon and they spent a great deal of time visiting.”
    â€œAnd compiling lists of eligible matches, no doubt,” Grace said under her breath.
    â€œI believe all their plans and plots and schemes may well keep them young. They do have a grand time. And you, all of you”—Mother’s pointed look circled the table—“should be most grateful for their efforts. One never knows where one might find a match not only suitable but perfect.” Mother smiled at her husband. “Don’t you agree, Jonathon?”
    Father cast her a look that might well have been considered wicked if, of course, he wasn’t, well, Father . “Cupid’s arrow strikes without warning, when one least expects or desires it. And often