Prelude for a Lord Read Online Free PDF Page A

bright, dark eyes, Mr. Morrish’s half-lidded gaze shifted slyly from side to side. His smile toward them all, and especially Clare, was wide and ingratiating, but never reached his eyes. The man was not handsome—he had protruding front teeth and a weak chin that made him slightly horselike in appearance—but he carried himself with an easy confidence that made one feel he ought to be handsome.
    “Lord Dommick,” Mr. Morrish simpered when they had all reseated themselves. “I had no idea you were coming to Bath. Were you not at Lord Ravenhurst’s estate for the past year?”
    Bayard stiffened. While it was no secret he had been at Ravenhurst Castle since last winter, the sneering way Mr. Morrish mentioned it seemed to indicate he knew the truth about why Bayard had been buried in the country for the past twelvemonth. The specter of the ugly rumours threatened to overshadow Bayard, and he tightened his jaw.
    “I had always intended to support my sister for her come out,” Bayard replied coldly. “When I heard she would be spending the winter in Bath, I naturally came to escort her about in society.”
    “We all came,” Ravenhurst added. His icy demeanor seemed to make Mr. Morrish’s civility falter.
    A flash of something ugly passed across Mr. Morrish’s pale face, then it was gone.
    “Miss Terralton is like a sister to us,” Ian drawled, although Bayard caught the edge to his words. “It’s as if she has three older brothers.”
    A twinkle shone in Clare’s eyes as she glanced at Ian.
    To his credit, Mr. Morrish recovered quickly. “Why, that is how I feel about Miss Terralton myself. It is a relief to know she has other such friends as I.”
    A wordless sound escaped Clare’s lips as she had difficulty containing her outrage.
    “She has a great many friends,” Ravenhurst said. “My mother has offered to Miss Terralton and her family the use of our house here in Bath.”
    Mr. Morrish started in surprise, then turned to Lady Morrish. “My dear lady, how fortuitous for you. Surely the Marchioness of Ravenhurst’s home is one of the most elegant in Bath.”
    “We shall be very comfortable,” Lady Morrish said.
    Mr. Morrish’s smile seemed to indicate he thought nothing more delightful than her removal to the Ravenhursts’ home, but Bayard noticed the man’s hand clenched in his lap.
    The rest of Mr. Morrish’s visit passed with gentle gossip that delighted Bayard’s mother. Mr. Morrish had a rapier wit that sometimes bordered on cruel, and his manner of conveying a story seemed to indicate how he despised the characters he spoke of. He appeared to be watching Raven and Ian to see how long they would stay, but Ian brought up at least five or six times how they considered themselves family to Clare and her mother and seemed entrenched in the chair he lounged in. At last, despite the fact Sir Hermes was his uncle, propriety forced Mr. Morrish to depart.
    Bayard made a point of walking Mr. Morrish to the door, accompanied by Raven and Ian.
    Mr. Morrish had an assurance that was faintly like a challenge as he donned his beaver hat. “I bid you good day, gentlemen. I expect we shall see much of each other this winter.”
    Raven stiffened, but Ian said, “Good day,” and all but ushered Mr. Morrish out the front door.
    “I should like to darken his lights,” Raven said in a chilly voice.
    “What did you think of him?” Bayard asked Ian. Of the four of them, Ian’s ability to assess a person’s character surpassed themall. Perhaps it had to do with his successful interactions with the fairer sex.
    “Completely mercenary,” Ian said. “Although there is something refreshing about a man so transparent about it.”
    “ Refreshing is not the word I would use to describe him.” Raven frowned at Ian.
    “He should never be allowed an opportunity to speak privately to Clare, for he seems the sort of man who might press his advantage to force a marriage out of the situation.”
    “That much is