Always a Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF Page B

leaned forward. “What I want to know is why you’ve decided to marry, and why to that Davies chit?”
    Cosgrove’s lips curved in a humorless smile. “Because she’s of good stock, and her family has no choice in the matter. And because she’ll give me an heir and won’t dare protest my…habitual activities.” The marquis looked past Bram again. “Abernathy, Your Grace, thank you for meeting me here. I’m afraid my schedule is frightfully tangled these days.”
    Bram’s spine snapped to attention before he could stop it. Damned Cosgrove. That was what he’d been talking about—that the Duke of Levonzy was coming up behind him. And from the marquis’s lifted eyebrow as he gestured for the two men to sit, he knew of Bram’s abrupt discomfiture.
    “I’m only here at Abernathy’s request,” the duke said, steel gray eyes passing over Bram and moving beyond him to Cosgrove. “You have a reputation for not dealing fairly.”
    “A well-earned one,” Cosgrove returned easily. “Are you staying, Bramwell? I know how you detest business.”
    King might have supplied him an excuse to go without losing face, but the marquis cared only for his own interests, as did Bram. He considered staying, but when he weighed that against the prospect of listening to his father discuss anything for an hour, the decision was an easy one. He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m leaving.” Bram nodded at Abernathy. “You may sell your daughter in peace.”
    The earl’s skin darkened. “I—”
    “Pay that fool no mind, Lewis. He has no concept of duty or propriety.” The duke gestured for a bottle of wine.
    “I can’t argue with that, except to say that I’ve never been happier not to be considered a proper gentleman. Cosgrove.” With a nod Bram made his way through the maze of tables and back outside again.
    Redding trotted up, Titan in tow, and Bram swung into the saddle. The problem was, he didn’t have a destination in mind. He could go home and nap until a decent hour, or he could visit Phin and bully him into going to luncheon.
    What he wanted to do, though, was have a longer chat with Lady Rosamund Davies. Nothing about this should have interested him in the least; for Lucifer’s sake, arranged marriages were older than Egypt’s pyramids. But at the same time, this one made him curious.
    He understood Cosgrove and his motivations. The marquis had decided he wanted an heir of his own blood and name, which would remove his milk toast youngercousin Thomas Wyatt from the race. Being Cosgrove, he’d chosen a wife whom he could control, and who would continue to show a respectable face while the marquis continued with his whoring and drinking and wagering unabated.
    And what was wrong with that? Nothing he supposed, except that King’s betrothed-to-be borrowed books on the history of the Colonies. He was used to assessing character quickly, and even with the few words they’d exchanged, she didn’t seem the moronic, spineless chit who would acquiesce to being a laughingstock without protest. Still, he’d been wrong before. Rarely, but it did happen.
    Perhaps, then, his perception of her had been wrong. Bram sent a glance back in the direction of the Society Club. He loved deciphering a mystery, and this smelled like one. After all, Cosgrove might have been a good teacher, but Bram had been an excellent student. And anything that could be turned to his advantage needed to be looked into.
    He consulted his pocket watch again. Not quite half twelve. Where had that whelp James Davies said he was going today? Generally Lord Lester prattled so much that Bram ceased listening altogether. But there had been something…
    “Come along, Redding,” he said over his shoulder, urging Titan into a trot. “We’re off to Gentleman Jackson’s.”
    The groom didn’t even blink. “Very good, my lord.”
    As he entered the boxing establishment twenty minutes later, he’d begun to question just what it was