Midwinter Manor 2 -Keeper's Pledge Read Online Free PDF Page B

beat him to it.
    “Philip’s brandy is magnificent, Lucy dear,” he said grandly. “I could compose an ode to Philip’s brandy. That is, had I an ear for composition, which sadly I have not. My talents lie in the declamation of others’ verse: ‘I could not stay behind you: my desire, more sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth.’” On finishing this disconcerting speech, made more so by the emphasis he chose to give certain words, Matthew gazed around the room as if inviting applause; finding none, he sighed dramatically.
    Frederick was apparently not entertained. “Isn’t it about time you stopped this ridiculous showing off?”
“Is it a world to hide virtues in?” Matthew asked with passionate rhetoric, flinging his arms wide. Brandy sloshed in his glass without spilling, but Philip feared for his furnishings with that cigar still lit in Matthew’s hand.
    “For heaven’s sake, Matthew, sit down before you cause an accident with all that silly hand waving,” Frederick snapped.
Matthew looked at him sulkily, but sat.
    “And that’s enough of that sort of talk. If you can’t think of a decent subject to converse about, then don’t speak at all. You’re embarrassing your host, your family, and yourself.”
    There was an awkward silence. “Wasn’t it a strange thing about Agatha Christie?” Millie burst in brightly. “Still, she’s been found safe and well, so no harm done, I suppose. What do you think of her novels, Philip? Have you read them?”
    Philip hastened to join in. “I, ah, I liked The Mysterious Affair at Styles very much. I wasn’t so keen on Roger Ackroyd .”
    “Oh, go, hang yourselves all! You are idle shallow things: I am not of your element.” Matthew rose, his chair scraping noisily on the floor, and flounced out of the room.
    Philip frowned. Matthew’s words had seemed oddly familiar. “Is he quoting something?”
Lucy laughed and tapped her cigarette upon the table before putting it between her unrouged lips. “ Twelfth Night , I believe. Could be worse.”
“Could it?” Frederick muttered into his brandy. Philip had a sudden image of Matthew clad as Viola and was inclined to agree with his cousin’s sentiments on the matter.
“Would you prefer he move on to the sonnets?” Lucy persisted. “What do you think, Philip? Would you care to be compared to a summer’s day?”
    Philip froze. Surely she wasn’t asking him outright if he…. “I, ah—please excuse me.” Tossing his cigar with shaky aim into the fire, he fled.
    Attempting to take refuge in the billiard room, he found it already occupied by Matthew. “Care to indulge in a little ball play with me?” Matthew drawled.
    “No, thank you,” Philip managed. “But you carry on, don’t mind me.” Damn it, he wanted nothing more than to leave and find solitude, but he could hardly run out on another of his guests, could he? Leaning against the paneled wall, he attempted to take calming breaths as he watched Matthew. Really, the boy played appallingly badly. He didn’t even seem to know what angle to take his shots from. Philip had half a mind to go over and correct him, until it dawned on him with mild horror that Matthew had a very clear strategy of his own, and that was to take as many shots as even remotely possible from a position bent over Philip’s side of the table.
    Presumably Matthew felt he displayed to best advantage this way, but Philip rather thought he’d seen enough. “Excuse me,” he said for the second time that evening, determining this time to go where he was sure of solitude.
    A few minutes’ fresh air outside on the terrace went some way to restoring his composure. Really, he was being ridiculous. What must Frederick think of him? Squaring his shoulders, he went back into the drawing room.
    Lucy cornered him at once. “Philip, old thing, there you are. I must apologize for teasing you earlier. I keep forgetting you’re not one of Frederick’s set and therefore don’t deserve