Jo Beverley Read Online Free PDF Page A

to try reason. “Sax, perhaps this time you should just let the old besom score a hit. She’ll gloat a bit, but at least you won’t be shackled for life to a woman you dislike.”
    Sax swung off the bed, leaving Knox there to play with the crumpled letter. Careless of the crowded room, he dropped the banjan, and pulled on the drawers and shirt Nims held out. “You didn’t read the whole letter, did you?”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œYou’re my secretary, Owain. Reading my letters is permissible.”
    â€œNot your personal ones.”
    â€œYou should break this bad habit of propriety. If you’d read the whole thing, you’d know there was a second part to my promise. I was to be shackled for life by my twenty-fifth birthday, or I was to allow my grandmother to choose the leg-iron.”
    Owain snatched the letter from Knox’s inquisitive beak. After a quick read through, he said, “What a damned fool promise to make!”
    Sax was tucking in his shirt. “Oh, quite. But I gave my word and I will keep it. I will not, however, let my grandmother choose my”—he turned deliberately toward the bed—“bride.”
    â€œA bride is a bridle!”
    â€œQuite. Therefore, I will choose my own bridle, and by tomorrow.”
    Owain paced the room himself. “It can’t be done, Sax! Even if you decide on one of these young women, she won’t consent to do it in such a scrambling way.”
    â€œYou think not?”
    Owain halted. “I suppose some of them would. But imagine the talk.”
    â€œTo the devil with the talk.”
    â€œThen imagine putting the matter to the young lady and her family.”
    â€œThat,” Sax admitted, “is not a pleasant prospect. But it is immensely preferable to putting myself in the dragon’s claws. The only question is, which lady receives this dubious honor?” He turned suddenly to the grinning audience of servants. “Well? I’m sure you have opinions.”
    â€œAye, milord,” said Monkey. “Choose the one wot brings the most money.”
    â€œSuch a pragmatist. Do you plan to choose the woman with the most money?”
    â€œI would if I could find one, milord, even if she ’ad a crooked back and warts.”
    Susie, who definitely lacked those features, kicked him in the shin. He cursed and hopped, but he was grinning at the same time.
    â€œBut, I don’t need money.”
    â€œWhat do you need, then, milord?” asked Susie.
    â€œAn excellent question.” He sat again so Nims could arrange his cravat. Brak contentedly flopped over his stockinged feet. “Good health. Good teeth. Moderation in her habits—I have no desire to end up trying to curb a wastrel wife.”
    â€œTrouble and strife! Trouble and strife!”
    â€œLet’s pray you’re wrong, Knox. And I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to this. Discretion,” Sax continued. “I don’t care for the idea of fighting duels over her either. So,” he said, turning slightly toward Owain, “which one fits?”
    â€œGod knows. You’ve surely been in a better position than I to check their teeth.”
    â€œDevil a bit. I’ve been avoiding intimacy with hopeful young leeches like the plague. But you can cross off Lady Frances and Lady Georgina, and Miss Stewkesly, too. I’ve heard rumors about all of them suggesting discretion isn’t part of their character.”
    Owain dutifully crossed off three names. “Perhaps I should just put the rest into a hat and you can pick one.” Hastily, he said, “No—”
    But Sax was already saying, “Why not?”
    Owain cursed his hasty tongue.
    Susie spoke up. “Beggin’ your pardon, milord . . .”
    Both Owain and Sax looked at her in surprise, not because she’d spoken—in this household the servants seemed to feel at liberty to say