As You Wish Read Online Free PDF Page A

connections.”
    David snorted.  “So I have heard.  What better place to learn that lesson than in his majesty’s cavalry?”
    “Is that why you sold your commission?”
    When he failed to answer, the marquess returned to his seat, taking a long drink of brandy.  “At least consider my proposal about the gate house.  I truly would like to know my son.”
    David felt a muscle in his cheek quiver.  He could not recall ever before having heard Solebury call him “son.”  But that fact only illustrated how little the man had ever offered him.  He swallowed.  “I thank you, my lord, but I daresay we know each other as well as we ever will.  Good day to you.”
    He stalked from the room, nearly colliding with Phoebe in the hall as she left the sitting room.
    “I was just coming for you, David,” she said.  “Miss Cantrell has been calling for you.”
    “She what?” he snapped, still infuriated by the interview with his father.  “I find that hard to credit.”
    Phoebe cast her gaze downward.  “Well, perhaps she has not exactly ‘called’ for you.  But she has murmured the name ‘David’ several times.”
    He laughed.  “Dear Phoebe, she clearly refers to another David.  After all, your patient and I are hardly on first-name terms.  We have, in fact, barely met.  She likely has a brother named David . . . or a lover.”  He glanced through the doorway toward the recamier where the young woman lay.
    “Or she may be calling you.”
    He looked back at the marchioness, whose large brown eyes implored him to indulge her.
    “What harm can come to you in sitting with her for a few minutes?” she asked.
    He stood undecided a moment longer, then lifted his gaze heavenward.  “None, I suppose.  But I tell you I shan’t easily grow accustomed to this angel-of-mercy role.”
    She rewarded him with a warm smile.
    They entered the room, David going to the recamier, while Phoebe hung back near the door.  He seated himself in a chair that had been pulled up close to the patient’s side, and she stirred at the sound of his movements.
    Remembering Phoebe’s speculations, he shuddered.  Could Miss Cantrell truly want to snuff out the precious, precarious life that caused her chest to rise and fall so softly under the counterpane?  He wanted to shake her and tell her never to think of such an abomination again, tell her to grab onto life with both hands and climb on for the ride.  Instead, he watched her breathe, silently willing her to continue.
    She shifted slightly in her sleep, facing away from him with her hair spilled across the pillow.  He had never seen such gorgeous hair, almost unnaturally beautiful in both color and sheen.  Though deeper in hue, the lustrous red made him think of candy cane stripes--shiny, cool, the portion one imagined tasted sweeter than the rest of the sweet.
    He reached out to touch the spun sugar, but her eyelids fluttered open, and he let his arm fall again.
    Rubbing her eyes, she fixed her gaze on him.  The corners of her mouth curved upward.  “David.”
    Surprised, he glanced back at Phoebe, who shrugged before he turned away again.
    “David with the devilish eyes,” Miss Cantrell murmured, “trying to disguise the soul of an angel.”
    He heard Phoebe giggle behind him.  “Well, she has your measure, does she not?”
    “I should hope my character is more complex than one dazed statement would indicate,” he shot back over his shoulder.  Feeling a gentle touch on his knee, he swung back around to find Miss Cantrell weakly reaching out to him--a gesture so intimate he longed to crawl under the counterpane with her.  Instead, he turned to Phoebe for her reaction.
    His young stepmother walked forward a few steps and nodded.  “Go on and hold her hand, David.  She needs comforting, and she certainly responds to you.”
    He looked back to Miss Cantrell, who now stretched both arms toward him.  Instead of climbing onto the recamier with her as he wanted,