The Wild Child Read Free Page A

of dinner engagements, and his friends would miss him in a casual way, but there was nothing and no one to whom his presence was vital. As a younger son, Dominic had gone into the army just in time to be bloodied at Waterloo. Though he hadn’t disgraced himself, the experience had taught him he wasn’t cut out to be a soldier. Worse, the peacetime army had proved damned boring.
    So he’d sold his commission and lived the carefree life of a young gentleman ever since. The heady delights of London during the Season, and long lazy visits to the country homes of friends the rest of the year. He was just reckless enough to be considered dashing, and innately prudent enough not to get himself into serious trouble. But he was twenty-eight now, and beginning to tire of having no purpose beyond pleasure. Of never doing anything that mattered.
    If he owned Bradshaw Manor, his life would have meaning. The broad, fertile fields, the spacious stables and gracious house—the yearning was so sharp he could taste it. “I’ll be ready. What needs doing?”
    “First, a haircut,” his brother said dryly. “Plus you’ll have to take some of my clothing. Your tailor leaves much to be desired.”
    Dominic made a mental note to “accidentally” wreck at least one of his brother’s overpriced coats before this escapade was over. “Anything else?”
    “Morrison will go with you. He’ll be the only one who knows of the substitution.”
    Dominic almost groaned aloud. Morrison was as stuffy a valet as Kyle was a master. “Can Morrison get in touch with you if necessary?”
    Kyle hesitated. “He’ll know where I am, but it will be almost impossible to reach me. I will probably be gone three to five weeks. I expect you to cover for my absence in whatever way is necessary. When you’ve built an adequate relationship with Lady Meriel, leave. The less time you spend at Warfield, the less likely anyone is to notice the differences between us.”
    That Dominic agreed with heartily. “Clothing, haircut, valet. I’ll also need to know about your meetings with Amworth and your visit to Warfield.”
    “A good point. I’ll make notes.” Kyle frowned. “You can’t come to Wrexham House—the servants would be shocked to see us on visiting terms. Morrison and I will return tonight with clothing and the information you need. He’ll cut your hair then.”
    Dominic repressed a sigh. It took so little for his brother’s natural high-handedness to bloom. “One thing. I want a signed letter from you saying that Bradshaw Manor is mine if I accomplish the goal we have discussed.”
    Kyle had been about to leave, but at that he swung around, his eyes dangerous. “You doubt my word, Dominic?”
    Oddly enough, he did not. “No, but if you get thrown by a horse and killed on this mysterious mission, I’d like to get my payment.”
    Kyle’s brows rose sardonically. “If that happens, brother dear, you’re the next Earl of Wrexham, and I wish you much joy of your inheritance.”
    Then he stalked out the door, closing it hard behind him.
    Chapter 2
    She entered her workroom from the garden, a bucketful of wildflowers in her left hand. After setting the bucket on the pine table, she contemplated the shelf above, which contained an odd assortment of containers. The cylindrical pottery jar? No, the tall silver coffee pot that she’d taken from the cabinet in the dining room.
    Begin with branches of honeysuckle, spiky and heavy with scent.
    The door to the conservatory opened behind her and a small, pleasantly plump woman with pure white hair entered. “There’s news, dear,” Mrs. Rector said in her gentle voice. “Remember that nice young man who came to dinner and spent the night about a fortnight ago? Dark hair, and such a distinguished air? Lord Maxwell.”
    What to go with the honeysuckle? Masses of speedwell with tiny, vivid blue blossoms. She pulled a handful from the bucket and trimmed the stems with her shears. The curving silver surface