The Redemption of Lord Rawlings Read Free Page B

amiable time.” Tempest looked at Whitmore again.
    Whitmore might be a dandy, but he wasn’t a complete fool. He rose and bowed. “Your grace, I will take my leave. It has been a pleasure. Rawlings, do change out of those dreadfully wet clothes. You look awful.”
    He exited the room whistling and closed the door behind him.
    “ Arrogant fop,” Tempest muttered. “I’ll just have a glass of brandy while I wait for you to change out of your wet clothes. Such a shame, that jacket is ruined.” Tempest examined the coat with sadness as he moved past Phillip to sit in the leather chair by the fireplace.
    “ About the brandy…” Phillip started to explain.
    “ Oh, forget about the brandy. Just change so we can get this over with. I hate apologies, and I do not mean to make mine longer than necessary.”
     
    ****
     
    Phillip did his best to hurry, though it was at least thirty minutes before he returned to his study where the Duke of Tempest waited. Winifred was acting as both butler and valet since Phillip hadn’t the blunt to keep a full staff.
    What the devil did Tempest want anyway? They hadn’t spoken since…well since the wedding. A night Phillip would rather forget but knew was impossible to completely blot from his mind.
    It was the night he had lost Emma, the new Duchess of Tempest, forever. And consequently, the night he found himself. The carriage ride home from Gretna Green had been dreadful. If not for the bottle of port, he might have gone insane. Instead he had drunk himself into oblivion, thinking about all the ways he had ruined his chances of finding a wealthy heiress.
    His childhood friend Emma was out of the question. And in a moment of pure clarity, thanks in part to the alcohol humming through his veins, he realized it would have been a terrible idea. Emma was not the same girl, and he was not the same man he had been so many years ago. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to be the same. He just wasn’t. Sometimes he felt as if he was walking around pretending to be something he was not. Oh, it was his skin, his face, his features, but the man inside had changed so much. Much more than he let on. He would have been the end of Emma’s spirit.
    She was much better off with a man like Tempest. Although their engagement had been nothing but a farce, it turned into something much more as they spent time together. It wasn’t long before Tempest was absolutely besotted with the girl. Not that Phillip could blame him. Emma was beautiful. She’d always been beautiful. With reddish brown hair and mischievous eyes—a man could do much worse. He could still remember the look on her face when he had torn up the marriage contract. What a cad he was. All because he had wanted to see what the world had to offer. Unfortunately for him, the only discoveries he made were whiskey and loose women—all of which left him even emptier than before. As his mind continued to dredge up pictures of his past transgressions, the curricle pulled to a stop.
    His London townhome was located in Mayfair and was sucking the life out of his already empty coffers. That had been the unfortunate day the mysterious Mrs. Peabody had happened by and noticed the creditor at his door. The rumors had been running rampant ever since. Unfortunately, nobody knew the identity of the secretive Mrs. Peabody, so he couldn’t snuff out the gossip once it began circulating in the Society Papers.
    His luck had been taking a considerable downward spiral. So, it wasn’t at all shocking to see Tempest in his drawing room, taking into account the circumstances. It seemed just about right to find one of his oldest friends and sworn enemies in his home. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Tempest pulled out a pistol to finish him off.
    Besides, wouldn’t it be doing everyone a favor?
    Straightening his back, he walked into the inferno and was shocked to see Tempest smiling as if he had some blasted surprise in store. Maybe he did have a pistol