Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero Read Online Free PDF

choice?”

    The cheap jibe
at John’s manhood set his teeth on edge. He kindly restrained an
impulse to whack the shopkeeper over the head with his umbrella.
“Just give me one of each and wrap them up before I take my custom
elsewhere.”

    “You tell him
Mr Smirke…he’s always rude to me, but then I’m just a Vicar’s
daughter.”

    “I don’t care
if you’re Satan’s daughter, take your blasted bonnet away and poke
it into some other man’s affairs.”

    The bonnet
merely moved closer. “Smirke is very unusual name. Would you be the
depraved libertine who owns Bolingbroke House in Lincolnshire? You
resemble his portrait.”

    Smirke took a
deep breath causing more pain in his chest and increasing his
irritation. “Yes, I own Bolingbroke House and if you’re thinking to
crawl into my bed…” Smirke sighed with relief. “…I’m not remotely
tempted you scrawny pigeon. Fly away and pester some other
wretch.”

    “As if I’d
ever sleep in your hideous red velvet bed; I’d probably wake up
thinking I was in a Punch and Judy show. I’d hate to see your
beautiful nose grow long, red and ugly. The thought makes me want
to cry. Have you married?”

    “No…”

    “Are you in
love?”

    “I don’t
discuss emotions with strangers.”

    “So you’re not
in love.”

    “I’m not in
love. I’m not married, and I’m not going to be sane much longer
either unless you go away.”

    “Don’t you
want to know my name?”

    “I don’t want
to know anything about you.”

    “Why did you
ask that woman if her name was Joan?”

    “None of your
business; go tell your father you’ve been speaking to the
Honourable John Smirke and if I’m lucky, he’ll whip you.” John
turned back to pay for his purchases.

    “Do you think
I’d wear black and grey for the fun of it? My father’s been dead
for nearly eight months.”

    “No doubt he
shot himself to escape you.”

    “Actually he
was giving a sermon. He thumped the pulpit and died right in front
of the congregation, slumped over the bible and just hung there
like a wet shift drying in the…Oh no, it’s starting to rain.” John
tucked his package under his good arm and turned around to tell the
woman to go to blazes, but the black poke bonnet had vanished. As
he sighed with relief, a keenly unpleasant feeling swept through
his insides protesting that he’d just lost something precious.

    James Smirke
put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Who was that?”

    “No one and if
I never see her again it’ll be too soon. I feel odd…”

    “You’re
clearly in need of a lemon drop. I’ll run down the street and buy
you a bag.” John allowed the footman to help him back into the
carriage and sighed in despair at the impossible task of finding
the one wretched woman who’d love him. With his luck she was in the
Welsh hills speaking in some ungodly Celtic tongue. His heart
slumped. How would she fall in love with him if she didn’t speak
English? He sighed in disgust as his mutinous heart spewed an
uncomfortable feeling that he’d missed something important in the
irritating young woman’s conversation. Shaking his head in defiance
he forced his thoughts back to the more pleasant subject of finding
the mysterious Joan.

Chapter 4

    The rest of
John’s week passed in relative melancholy, most of the days spent
lying on a daybed haunting his sister-in-law. When he wasn’t
grilling pretty unmarried female callers for their first names, he
was sucking on lemon drops dreaming of adventures he’d have with
his imaginary Joan. His inquiries exposed nothing, but how many
young women were saddled with abominable names. He couldn’t imagine
being romantic with someone named Bertha, Henrietta or Leticia, but
then he couldn’t actually imagine being romantic until he
understood what the word meant. All it brought to mind were hazy
memories of his parents sitting next to each other at the dining
table and laughing. It was a senseless word hungry for