Night of Pleasure Read Online Free PDF

wearing a bonnet yet?”
    A strangled laugh escaped Derek at the unexpected quip. “No. Not yet.”
    His father tsked in a manner an old woman would, wobbling his head. “I worry about that one. The Lower Master forever complains about…about him. Where is he? I…I want to see him.”
    A shaky breath escaped Derek. Opening the door, he stepped out of the room. Seeing his brother against the nearest wall, Derek managed, “He wishes to see you. His breaths are short and uneven. Try not to make him talk too much. I made him talk too much.”
    Andrew scrambled away from the wall and darted into the room.
    Mr. Grey and his mother intently spoke to each other in grief-stricken whispers. Knowing his mother had kept this from him, regardless of his father’s insistence was…unforgivable. All the hours and days and weeks lost. To school. To nothing. He should have been with his father.
    Miss Grey quietly lingered barely a few feet away.
    He swallowed hard and eased himself against the wall beside the door in an effort to remain standing. “I’m sorry about my earlier behavior, Miss Grey. I…” He dug deep into himself and smiled at her, even though he wanted to collapse and cry. “Who knew I was proposing to a girl who was already mine?”
    She pulled in her chin. “You didn’t know about our engagement?”
    This was not how he imagined his life turning out. His eyes burned but he managed to keep his smile from wavering. “No. I didn’t. I just found out.”
    She slowly wandered toward him and lingered before him. “Why are you smiling?”
    Painful though it was, he broadened his lopsided smile. “Because as my father always says, grief only bites your soul if you let it.”
    She stared. “You are dishonoring your grief by even saying that.”
    Maybe. But it was how a Banfield had always handled a crisis: with a smile.
    Unable to maintain his façade, he said, “Forgive me. I must go to him.” He swung away and entered the darkness of his father’s room so he didn’t have to focus. Rounding the bed, he paused beside his brother and chanted to himself not to cry.
    The viscount dragged in several uneven breaths and searched Andrew’s face. “Do not remember me like this. For this is not…not who I am. I…I want you to remember the man who…who dances and…and laughs and…and…” His weathered lips parted as his shadowed eyes stared straight out and through them. “Andrew?” His father reached out. His trembling hand blindly drifted through the air between them. “Derek , I cannot see.”
    Andrew scrambled back.
    Oh God. “Andrew, take his hand.” Derek frantically grabbed his brother’s hand and forced it into that outstretched hand. There was only one thing he knew he could do for his father. The one thing his father loved most. “Tell him a quip.”
    Andrew glanced up at him through tears, his eyes widening. “A quip?” he echoed.
    “ A quip ,” Derek insisted. “You know how he loves them. Tell him anything you might have heard. Because I can’t think of anything right now.”
    “I uh…know one.” Stumbling against the side of the bed, Andrew tightened his hold on that hand and offered, “Two London girls living at the docks with their families had been sent by the kindness of the vicar’s wife to have a happy day in the country. On their return and upon being asked about their experience the girls said, ‘Oh yes, mum, we did ‘ave a ‘appy day. We saw three pigs killed and a gentleman buried. But sadly, no one died of the pox.’”
    A gargled chuckle grabbed the air. “That is…this is by far the…the best quip yet,” their father rasped with a smile, blindly touching Andrew’s face with quaking fingers. “Bless you both for…for always…making me…” He unevenly sucked in breaths as his hand fell onto his chest. His eyes fluttered closed as he struggled to breathe. His chest quaked.
    Derek edged closer. “Father?”
    That chest rose and fell but his father otherwise