A Lady's Guide to Improper Behavior Read Online Free PDF

Michael would no doubt regale her with every gory detail, real or fantastical, but she could imagine it well enough herself. And she knew what he meant, now. That she’d begun an argumentwith a man who killed people, and one who clearly wasn’t…balanced. “That’s only a story, though, yes? You don’t know for certain what happened.”
    “Not for certain,” he conceded, clearly reluctant to do so. “Stephen wouldn’t say. He may not know, either. Colonel James doesn’t seem to be very communicative.”
    “Violet said he didn’t use to be that way.”
    “If I saw everyone under my command slaughtered and then either ran from or killed the men who’d done it, I wouldn’t be chatty, either.”
    “No, you’d be chatty, regardless.”
    “Ha-ha. Don’t antagonize him, Tess. That’s tonight’s lesson.”
    Don’t antagonize him . Theresa turned her gaze out the window at the darkness of Mayfair. Just to herself, without taking into account what she should be feeling, she could admit that she’d rather enjoyed unseating the colonel. And she half hoped she would have another chance to do so. Where no one else could overhear and be appalled, of course.
    It didn’t seem at all proper, but it had been very…interesting.

Chapter Three
    “If a gentleman you favor is late arriving at a party, save him a dance—but not the waltz. Save him a country dance, because you won’t mind missing one of those if he should fail to appear.”
    A L ADY’S G UIDE TO P ROPER B EHAVIOR
    B artholomew awoke with a start, springing out of bed before his body remembered that his left leg would no longer support him in such an athletic move. With a sharp gasp he fell to the floor.
    “Damnation,” he growled, shifting to straighten his leg, concentrating on taking short breaths to avoid shrieking like a chit.
    In one sense, the pain was welcome. It roused him from an endless night of gunfire and screaming and the more muffled sounds and sensation of choking. He leaned back against the side of the bed. At least he could tell even in the pitch dark that he wasn’t back in India. The air was too cool, and faintly smelled of cigar and chimney smoke rather than forest and earth and dust.
    Knuckles rapped faintly against his door. “Colonel?”
    Scowling, Bartholomew glanced over his shoulder up at the bed. The very high bed. “Come in, Gibbs.”
    The door opened. The Adventurers’ Club morning caretaker slipped into the small room. Wordlessly the stout fellow stepped forward and bent down, grasping Bartholomew beneath the arms and lifting.
    “Thank you,” Bartholomew grunted, as he pulled free to sit on the edge of the bed again. “Sommerset doesn’t have you listening at my door, does he? This isn’t precisely the club.”
    “It is a part of the club, Colonel. And no one is in the lounge, so I thought to take a bit of a stroll.” He gestured at Bartholomew’s bad leg. “Want me to have a look at it?”
    Tolly started to refuse without even considering his answer; he could barely stand to look at it himself. That was one of the reasons he wore a pair of old trousers to bed; so he wouldn’t have to see it. The other reason was habit. Over the years he’d become accustomed to having to rise in the middle of the night. The army didn’t precisely keep regular hours. “No.” The pain had begun to subside, and he didn’t think his leg could get much worse without falling off completely.
    “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” With a nod, Gibbs turned on his heel.
    “Gibbs.”
    The servant stopped. “Yes, Colonel?”
    “Do you know how I might go about obtaining an invitation to a soiree?”
    Gibbs pursed his lips. “Which soiree?”
    “It’s at Haramund House. Tomorrow night. Or tonight, rather.”
    “Haramund House. Lord and Lady Allen. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
    “Thank you again, then.”
    Tolly lay back as the servant left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He had no idea why the