Lady Elinor's Wicked Adventures Read Online Free PDF

a hotel was needed there. Then Penworth said no—the ambassador was an old friend, so they would be staying at the embassy. So the ambassador had to be warned. Hotels would be needed in Chalons, Lyon, Aix, Avignon, and Marseilles. Then the British consul in Rome was requested to arrange for a private carriage to meet the party at Civita Vecchia, along with a lascia-passare , the passport that would enable them to avoid the endless formalities of the customhouse. The consul was also requested to arrange apartments for them in Rome.
    In some ways everything was much simpler than it had been when he set off on his own travels. People fell over themselves to be helpful to a marquess, especially one who was an important and respected figure in the House of Lords, and—even more especially—one who was one of the wealthiest men in England.
    On the other hand, not much had to be arranged for a young man traveling on his own, one who avoided mentioning his title and enjoyed the anonymity this provided. Nobody paid much attention to Harry de Vaux, who had far more freedom that Viscount Tunbury could ever have. However, that sort of travel also presented certain dangers, and more than once he had occasion to be grateful for his size and strength. Lady Penworth and Lady Elinor were entitled to all the safety and comfort that could be provided. Except…
    Norrie would enjoy traveling the way he had. She would love the freedom of it, and he would be all the protection she needed. Together they could…
    No.
    He clamped down on that thought, determined to dismiss Lady Elinor from his mind. He had obligations, obligations he had neglected for far too long. He had two sisters.
    * * *
    The springs on the hired gig should have been replaced years ago, and the padding had almost completely disappeared from the seat. As good a way as any to do penance, Tunbury decided. Did he qualify as a prodigal son? Could one be a prodigal son if one’s parents were prodigals themselves? The right wheel hit a bump and he went up in the air, landing on his hip and putting an end to meaningless speculations.
    He was a bit late for a visit to his sisters, wasn’t he? He should have come the minute he returned to England. He snorted. What rot. Late wasn’t the half of it. What he should have done was talk to them before he left in the first place. Maybe he should even have taken them with him. No, that was impossible. They were only children. He couldn’t have told them the truth, of course. But he could have told them something.
    Instead, he had run away. There was no other way to put it. And he was planning to run away again after this visit.
    The self-reproach was veering dangerously close to self-pity by the time he found himself in the blue drawing room of Bradenham Abbey, pacing nervously while he awaited his sisters. Shouldn’t the room seem more familiar? This was his home, in theory at least, no matter that he’d spent little time here in the past fifteen years. Still, had it always been this smothered in heavy draperies? He would surely have remembered all these badly painted landscapes on the walls with their anatomically bizarre deer. But if they were new, what blind man had chosen them?
    He paused to stare out the window, trying to decide if there had been any changes in the landscape. Perhaps it just looked gloomy because it was February and the weak sun had almost set.
    â€œHarry!”
    He turned in time to catch the bundle that hurtled into him. It wrapped its arms around him, and he looked down into brown eyes and a glowing smile under a mop of blond curls. He hugged it back. “Hullo, Olivia.” He managed to squeeze the words out around the lump in his throat.
    He looked up to see his other sister standing just inside the door, hands folded at her waist, face impassive. “Hello, Julia.”
    She gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You remember our names. I stand amazed. I had