Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Heather Gray
only yesterday."
"Touché."
"Will you tell me then, Cousin Rupert, what you are doing here in Northumberland working as a steward? We were all under the impression you were in shipping or exports or some such thing."
He steepled his hands on the desk, not to be deterred. "You wish me to give your sisters a season, correct?"
Juliana nodded. "I think it's the best solution. If we could leave for London posthaste, all the better."
"It doesn't seem to you they – Eleanor especially – may be too young for marriage?"
"We have no options here. You can't support us, and we have no one else to whom we can turn."
"There is other family, more distantly related than I, but they do exist. I could see about getting you settled with one of them."
She shook her head, every flying ringlet shouting her vehemence. "That won't do. They must be wed at once."
"Your demand seems unreasonable."
Juliana jumped from her chair and fisted her hands. "You accuse me of being unreasonable? What next? Hysterical? Apoplectic? Well, best you get my sisters wed to respectable men, then, so you can be rid of the lot of us."
She made no move to leave the room, and Rupert had to respect her pluck. He stood, shunning the use of his cane, and stepped around the desk. Once stopped in front of her, he spoke. "I've sent notice to the Duke of Sheffield, informing him that I shall need to leave my post here at Castle Felton. In addition, I've contacted a friend and asked him to look into the ledgers of Chakal Manor so we can make certain the solicitor is doing everything according to the law. The exact date is not yet set, but you and your family should be prepared to leave for London in a fortnight. We'll have to take the carriage you arrived in, as I have no conveyance here that will fit the entire party."
Gratitude flared to life in her eyes, but she closed it away so quickly he wondered if he'd seen it at all.
"I'm afraid our carriage won't seat five."
"I know."
"Will you ride then, Cousin?"
Rupert wished he could get her to drop the familial title. She was no blood relation to him, and somehow the name Cousin on her lips sounded as appealing as uncooked haggis. "I'll bring a horse but shall likely spend part of each day riding with the driver."
"Because of your leg?"
Looking down, it dawned on him that he'd been unconsciously rubbing at the ache in his thigh.
"How did you get hurt? Was it a riding accident? Or…" Juliana's voice broke. "Was it the war?"
"Nothing so glamorous or honorable, I'm afraid. This leg is the result of a bit of youthful foolishness."
"I'm sorry it pains you."
Rupert smiled at her. "I've gotten used to it over the years. I don't pay it much heed anymore."
Her gaze dropped pointedly until he realized she was staring at his hand… where he was again massaging the ache.
His cravat suddenly felt too tight. "Like I said, I notice it so little I'm not even aware of any discomfort."
"I suppose I'll let you get away with saying so, though your actions prove otherwise."
The trace of humor in her voice made him want to keep her there longer, keep her talking.
"Tell me, Juliana, are you ever going to trust me enough to let me in on the secret of what you and your sisters are fleeing from?"
A pall fell over the room. The teasing glint that had lightened her eyes a moment ago was gone, hidden behind shutters locked tight. He'd known better than to say that. Something about her had him speaking without thought. Juliana Clairmont was far more dangerous than she realized.
She left, not deigning to offer a response. Rupert tried to convince himself it was because she felt as off-balance by his presence as he felt by hers. He'd expected a sharp rebuttal, or at least a colorful insult. Instead, silence, stiff shoulders, and swishing skirts had been his answer.
Though not as entrancing as her eyes, he found that her silent reply gave him a view he rather enjoyed.
Chapter Seven
January 2, 1817
A week went by, and the
"Touché."
"Will you tell me then, Cousin Rupert, what you are doing here in Northumberland working as a steward? We were all under the impression you were in shipping or exports or some such thing."
He steepled his hands on the desk, not to be deterred. "You wish me to give your sisters a season, correct?"
Juliana nodded. "I think it's the best solution. If we could leave for London posthaste, all the better."
"It doesn't seem to you they – Eleanor especially – may be too young for marriage?"
"We have no options here. You can't support us, and we have no one else to whom we can turn."
"There is other family, more distantly related than I, but they do exist. I could see about getting you settled with one of them."
She shook her head, every flying ringlet shouting her vehemence. "That won't do. They must be wed at once."
"Your demand seems unreasonable."
Juliana jumped from her chair and fisted her hands. "You accuse me of being unreasonable? What next? Hysterical? Apoplectic? Well, best you get my sisters wed to respectable men, then, so you can be rid of the lot of us."
She made no move to leave the room, and Rupert had to respect her pluck. He stood, shunning the use of his cane, and stepped around the desk. Once stopped in front of her, he spoke. "I've sent notice to the Duke of Sheffield, informing him that I shall need to leave my post here at Castle Felton. In addition, I've contacted a friend and asked him to look into the ledgers of Chakal Manor so we can make certain the solicitor is doing everything according to the law. The exact date is not yet set, but you and your family should be prepared to leave for London in a fortnight. We'll have to take the carriage you arrived in, as I have no conveyance here that will fit the entire party."
Gratitude flared to life in her eyes, but she closed it away so quickly he wondered if he'd seen it at all.
"I'm afraid our carriage won't seat five."
"I know."
"Will you ride then, Cousin?"
Rupert wished he could get her to drop the familial title. She was no blood relation to him, and somehow the name Cousin on her lips sounded as appealing as uncooked haggis. "I'll bring a horse but shall likely spend part of each day riding with the driver."
"Because of your leg?"
Looking down, it dawned on him that he'd been unconsciously rubbing at the ache in his thigh.
"How did you get hurt? Was it a riding accident? Or…" Juliana's voice broke. "Was it the war?"
"Nothing so glamorous or honorable, I'm afraid. This leg is the result of a bit of youthful foolishness."
"I'm sorry it pains you."
Rupert smiled at her. "I've gotten used to it over the years. I don't pay it much heed anymore."
Her gaze dropped pointedly until he realized she was staring at his hand… where he was again massaging the ache.
His cravat suddenly felt too tight. "Like I said, I notice it so little I'm not even aware of any discomfort."
"I suppose I'll let you get away with saying so, though your actions prove otherwise."
The trace of humor in her voice made him want to keep her there longer, keep her talking.
"Tell me, Juliana, are you ever going to trust me enough to let me in on the secret of what you and your sisters are fleeing from?"
A pall fell over the room. The teasing glint that had lightened her eyes a moment ago was gone, hidden behind shutters locked tight. He'd known better than to say that. Something about her had him speaking without thought. Juliana Clairmont was far more dangerous than she realized.
She left, not deigning to offer a response. Rupert tried to convince himself it was because she felt as off-balance by his presence as he felt by hers. He'd expected a sharp rebuttal, or at least a colorful insult. Instead, silence, stiff shoulders, and swishing skirts had been his answer.
Though not as entrancing as her eyes, he found that her silent reply gave him a view he rather enjoyed.
Chapter Seven
January 2, 1817
A week went by, and the
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