Lord of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

the sea.
    “Then you were only a boy when you came into the title.”
    “Yes, though of course I had a guardian until I attained my majority. My uncle.” His mouth twisted at the memory.
    “He was unkind to you?”
    David glanced at her in surprise. “No, not in the least. He rarely took any notice of me at all.”
    “It was just that you had a strange look on your face when you mentioned him.”
    “Did I? I must have been thinking of—someone else.”
    “Someone who mistreated you?”
    “No, not at all.” He straightened. “Quite the opposite.”
    “I’m not sure I understand...”
    Bowing, David touched his hat. “Good day, Miss Whitwell. My condolences on your loss.”
    Drawing a deep breath, he strode away before he could make the mistake of saying more.

Chapter Two
     
    What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
     
    — William Shakespeare
     
    Rosalie let herself into her quarters—the same quarters that had belonged to Lord Deal only hours before—to discover her cousin hard at work. The last of the marquess’s belongings were gone, and Charlie was pushing her brassbound traveling trunk into place at the foot of her berth.
    “I put Mrs. Howard’s things in the connecting cabin. This is the last of the job.” Charlie glanced at her, his face red with effort. “Exactly what do you ladies pack in these things, cannonballs?”
    “And lead bricks.”
    “I suspected as much.” Her trunk satisfactorily positioned, Charlie sat down atop it, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat. “How are you bearing up?”
    Rosalie motioned for him to move over and took a seat beside him. Though her heart ached and she could have cried at the drop of a hat, at least it was the honest grief of knowing someone she loved was gone, and not the numbness and confusion of the night before. “Better than I expected.”
    “It was a fine service, Rosie. Your father would have approved. Even that cold fish Deal turned out to pay his respects.”
    “He’s not such a cold fish.” Though she wasn’t sure what to make of the marquess’s abrupt leave-taking after their conversation, Lord Deal had already been waiting on deck when she and Charlie had ventured above at sunrise. He’d been dressed in the same sober mourning as they were, only far more polished—black cravat, dove-gray waistcoat, black coat, charcoal trousers. Even his neatly barbered hair, black and glossy under his curled beaver hat, had looked tailored to the occasion. “He stayed after the service to talk with me about Papa, and about my plans.”
    “About your plans...” Charlie opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and let out a sigh.
    Rosalie hurried to forestall him. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’ll be perfectly fine. Happy, even. Living with my uncle Roger will mean I can finally settle down. He’s never shared Papa’s passion for travel.”
    “How could he, when he was already too busy having a love affair with the bottle?”
    “I’m sure he doesn’t drink that much.”
    “I hope he drinks that much, because I can’t think how else to excuse his conduct. First he marries that actress—”
    “I’ve heard she was quite celebrated in her day.”
    Charlie’s brows lowered in a scowl. “I don’t care if she performed rings around Sarah Siddons, she’s still the most vulgar creature I’ve ever clapped eyes on. She already had a bastard in tow when your uncle married her. If that woman takes you under her wing, Rosie, there’s not a respectable hostess in England whose doors will remain open to you.”
    Rosalie listened in silence, at a loss how to answer. She’d yet to meet her aunt, but even her father had mistrusted Uncle Roger. Though she’d never learned the source of the rift between them, they’d kept their contact to a minimum, carrying out what little communication family needs required through intermediaries like Charlie.
    “And then there’s the crowd your uncle