The Rake's Redemption Read Free Page A

bounced off the side table, then stooped to retrieve it as it skidded across the marble of the hall floor. “Shall I clean your sword, my lord? Or scour your pistols?”
    “Horses. I shall be leaving for my godmother’s estate tomorrow.”
    “Very good, milord. Will you be riding or driving the phaeton?” Graham Wright didn’t expect an answer so much as a torrent of abuse. A wise servant knew precisely how much provocation to offer up and the right time to do so.
    “Neither. I’ll ride in the landau like a fat merchant. You can lead Swiftsure.” Thomas paused. Graham Wright had served him for eight years, the son of his father’s head groom, and was no doubt vastly interested in what took his master to Northamptonshire. “I’m to train militia. The right sort of job for a disgraced convalescent.”
    “Very good, milord. I’m sure they’ll be grateful for your instruction.” Wright’s demeanour betrayed not one hint of sarcasm, but Thomas knew his man better than that. Without Wright’s determined care he would have died on the frigate bringing him home. The Teriad’s doctor had been a sot, and in contrary winds the voyage from Oporto had taken two weeks. The fever from Thomas’ infected wound should have finished him and then they’d have slung his corpse over the side instead of carrying him ashore at Tilbury three weeks ago.
    “Excellent countryside thereabout for riding, milord. I recall from our previous visits. Milord.”
    With a few words Wright had understood exactly what was required of him back then. The Hampton’s groom couldn’t believe how flush and generous his new friend was. Mornings in the alehouse were far more agreeable than trying to keep up with his hard riding mistress. But he wasn’t paying Wright to indulge in sentimental moonshine now. “We’ll leave in the morning. I’ll dine with my godmother tonight.”
    “Yes, milord.”
    Thomas sat down to read orders that instructed Lieutenant Colonel Horsley to cooperate with him on pain of dismissal. Thomas smiled at the thought of how that should endear him to Sir Theodore. As if it mattered; before he’d finished with the Volunteers, they’d all be cursing him, officers and men alike. As would Wright if he started to reminisce again about past times in Northamptonshire.
    ~
    His hostess pounced as soon as Thomas walked through the front door of Bedford Square. “I’m told you arrived at Horseguards looking like a cadaver, Thomas.” Lady Guilmor paused in her denunciation, but only so that she could scrutinize her godson. She must have decided he was in no imminent danger of collapse for she resumed her tirade. “What was the point of that? Were you looking for sympathy?”
    “It’s a delight to see you too, godmother.” Thomas knew there was warmth under Amara Guilmor’s apparent frost. He’d never doubted the depth of her affection, nor the value of her influence. “It would be a waste of time to expect sympathy from Sir Edmund, as you well know.”
    “My brother has no regard for weaklings, that’s true. He enjoys his scheming too much.” The words were said with a quiet satisfaction. “Still, he has offered you a fine opportunity, Thomas. It might even impress your father. You’ll use Trefoyle of course? The militia barracks is only seven miles from there.”
    “Thank you. I had anticipated the offer. That’s why I came to dine tonight.” With his godmother he could be quite shameless, she would have respected nothing else. “Trefoyle’s very practical. Unless you’ve redecorated it since I’ve been away.” He smiled and waited for the explosion the tease was bound to bring.
    “Why would I do a damn fool thing like that? It’s not like this place that Guilmor says has to be kept up to the fashions. Pink stucco one year, Egyptian chairs the next. Never getting value from the stuff before you’re throwing it out. Wasteful. Trefoyle’s for living in.” By which she meant the furniture and decoration