A Woman Scorned Read Online Free PDF Page B

Robert was desperate for a little excitement.“Well, can you tell if he’s spying on us? Maybe that’s what he’s up to?”
    “He’s snooping a bit, but he isn’t spying!” reported Stuart from his perch. He leaned closer to the window. “Anyway, I don’t think he’s the fellow who’s to come this afternoon. Not wearing those fancy regimentals.”
    “What regiment is he from?” asked Robert enthusiastically, trying harder to scrabble up beside his brother.
    Stuart hesitated, and Robert knew why. The sighting and identification of all things military was a source of constant dissent between the boys. And despite his being the younger, Robert accounted himself more of an expert in the field. His collection of toy soldiers was vast, much loved, and intently studied.
    “
Umm
. . .
,
” Stuart hesitated. “Life Guards.”
    At last, the smaller boy succeeded in scrambling up and squeezing into the dormer with his brother. He sighed sharply. “Oh, Stuart, you are an
ejit
and that’s a fact! That fellow there is a
Royal Dragoon
.” Robert pronounced the words with the same awe one might reserve for the heavenly host.
    “Is not,” retorted Stuart, clearly affronted.
    “Is too!” insisted the younger boy. “And that’s what I call a proper coat, too! D’you see any cheap brass buttons stuck all over it? No. And the trousers, Stuart! They are not at all the same.”
    “Oh, it’s Life Guards and I know it,” insisted his lordship haughtily.
    “Oh, Stuart! You are such a—a—” Lord Robert groped desperately for the new phrase he’d overheard in the stables yesterday afternoon. “A horse’s
arse!
” he bellowed triumphantly.
    “Am not!” answered Stuart. “And you are just a—a
dog
turd
. A scrappy little dried-up dog turd.”
    “No, I’m not!” wailed Robert, outraged.
    His brother narrowed his eyes. “Are too!”
    “Horse’s arse!”
    “Dog turd!”
    “Horse’s arse!”
    “Dog tur—
yowch!
”
    Abruptly, a meaty fist reached out and dragged his most noble lordship rudely backward off his perch. “Aye, an’ just what d’ye think yer aboot, my fine fellow?”
    “Nanna!” cried the boys in unison.
    “Doon’t ‘Nanna’ me, my laddies,” the plump old nurse said grimly, grabbing up Robert in the other hand and giving him a little shake. “ ’Tis no good yer up to, plain enough. Now, doon the stairs, w’the both of you, and we’ll see if there’s tae be any supper.”

 2 
    After long years, How should I greet Thee?
    P erhaps it would have eased Cole’s mind had he known that his visit to the tall brick townhouse in Brook Street was as unwelcome an event from within as it was from without. But he did not know it, and as he laid his hand upon the cold brass knocker at precisely two minutes before the appointed hour, his faint curiosity began to give way to a grave sense of uncertainty, which was further heightened by the hollow echo of the knocker dropping onto the wood.
    After a long moment, the door swung noiselessly open to reveal not one but a pair of ruddy-faced footmen, and not the tall, handsome sort of fellows that one would normally associate with the finer homes of London. The decidedly elegant gray and maroon livery aside, it appeared that the Marchioness of Mercer employed a couple of former pugilists as household servants.
    “Aye, wot ’cher want?” grumbled the first, his language a dead giveaway. Apparently, Lady Mercer really didn’t give a damn about who opened her fine front door. Strangely enough, Cole’s assessment of the lady went up a notch.
    With military precision, Cole whipped out his card. “Captain Amherst to see her ladyship,” he announced, shifting his weight forward to step into the hall.
    “Aye, ’old up just a bloomin’ minute, gov’!” said the other, planting a handful of beefy fingertips in the middle of Cole’s chest. The footman glanced to his right where his sparring partner stood, squinting at Cole’s card. Together, they