No Longer a Gentleman Read Online Free PDF Page A

weaklings. That’s why French victory is inevitable.”
    Gasping with pain from the kick, Grey panted, “The war has resumed?”
    “Naturally. The Truce of Amiens was merely a pause to recruit more men and build more weapons. Within the next months, we will invade England and make ourselves masters of Europe.”
    Grey didn’t want to believe that. But it could be true. In Paris, he’d heard that the French were building boats and amassing an army at Boulogne. “Napoleon will have to get by the Royal Navy first,” he spat out in a thin, rusty voice.
    “We have plans to take care of your navy,” Durand said confidently. His expression changed. “After the invasion, your family will probably be dead and their fortune confiscated. I wonder if it would be prudent to offer you to them for ransom now? How much would they pay for their son and heir, Wyndham? A hundred thousand pounds? Two hundred thousand?”
    Grey’s heart spasmed. Dear God, to be free of this place! His parents would pay any amount to get him back. They would …
    They would beggar the family for his sake. His parents, his younger brother and sister—all would pay for Grey’s stupidity. He could not do that to them.
    Managing a sneer of his own, he said, “They surely think I’m dead already, and good riddance. Why do you think I spent months in France? I was an expensive, useless son. My father was furious with me and I thought it best to get out of sight. He would have disowned me if he could.” Grey shrugged. “I have a younger brother who is better in all ways. He will make an excellent earl. I’m neither wanted nor needed.”
    “A pity,” Durand said with a trace of regret. “But entirely believable. If you were my son, I wouldn’t want you back, either. Then you shall stay here till you rot.”
    He spun on his heel and left. The locks on the door were engaged before Grey could stagger to his feet.
    Had he thrown away his only chance of leaving this dungeon alive? Hard to say. Durand was a shifty devil and he might have collected a ransom and not freed his captive. Or returned Grey’s dead body to England.
    But Durand had been right to sneer. Grey had been wallowing in self-pity and despair, allowing himself to become weak in body and spirit. If he’d been in better shape, he might have been able to break Durand’s neck. He’d never have escaped the castle, but it would have been satisfying to kill the mocking bastard.
    He’d lost track of time. Three months, Durand had said. He felt as if he’d been here that many years, but from the length of his beard, three months sounded about right. It was summer, probably sometime in August. His twenty-first birthday had just passed.
    If he had been home in England, his parents would have thrown a great celebration at the family seat, inviting aristocratic friends as well as all the Costain dependents. Grey would have enjoyed it enormously.
    Instead, they were mourning his disappearance and likely death. He loved his family, but he’d always taken them for granted even though one couldn’t have asked for better parents. He was deeply fond of his younger brother and sister, who looked up to him. He’d failed them all. The only thing he could take pride in was discouraging Durand’s ransom demand.
    Grey would not—could not—continue in this spineless fashion. First, he must begin an exercise regimen to rebuild his strength.
    He studied his cell as he thought about what was possible in the space. He could run in place to build his endurance. Stiffly he began, imagining places he’d been and sights he’d seen so he could mentally leave these ugly walls.
    He ran until he had a stitch in his side, then dropped to the floor and pushed himself up with just his arms. Once that would have been easy. Now he could only manage to push himself up half a dozen times before he collapsed, gasping.
    Another way to build muscles was by lifting the two stones that served as chair and table. He bent to