Suzanne Robinson Read Online Free PDF Page A

aunt’s squalling.
    “Thistlethwayte? Thi—stle—thwayte! These flowers are wilting, and the guests haven’t even arrived. Thistlethwayte!”
    This last cry was more of a screech. Valin winced, and Megan ducked her head and gave a soft moan.
    “Come on, girl.”
    He sped along the landing to the east wing. He could hear Megan’s nails clicking on the floor as he crept past his own rooms and around a corner. Slipping through a door, he entered the book-lined chamber he’d made into his study. Valin shutthe door while Megan trotted over to the fireplace and curled up on the large embroidered cushion reserved for her. Valin turned the key in the lock, sighed, and smiled at the collie.
    “We’ll get a bit of peace in here, girl. Can’t hear Aunt at all.”
    Unbuttoning his evening coat, Valin estimated he had almost an hour before he had to receive the guests who’d been invited to Ottoline’s ball. This evening’s entertainment was yet another attempt to match him with a suitable young lady. Aunt wasn’t about to give up, and Valin had resigned himself to the necessity of marrying. He’d avoided it for years, but he was thirty-one, and it was time.
    Still, he couldn’t help being resentful. He wouldn’t have to marry at all if his brothers weren’t so unsatisfactory. If Acton were to inherit, he’d ruin the estates in a year with his debts, and poor Courtland was so caught up in his research he barely remembered what month it was. If a subject had nothing to do with his medieval studies, it wouldn’t hold Courtland’s attention for more than two minutes.
    Had either of his brothers showed the talent or inclination to manage the vast North holdings, Valin would have remained single. It was all he was fit for—solitude. Now he would have to find a young woman he could tolerate. Once married, he’dspend his life dreading that his wife might discover the secret he’d kept so long.
    Valin closed his eyes as images forced themselves upon him. Flames, twisting, jumping flames. The heat blistering wood, baking brick. Timbers snapping and crashing as the roof of the old lodge collapsed. He could feel his skin burn as he stood on the lawn and watched hell’s destruction overtake his father and his stepmother. He could see their writhing figures—black silhouettes that danced before the windows.
    Something touched his leg, jolting Valin out of the nightmare. He glanced down to find Megan tapping him with her paw. Her ears pricked, and he knelt to stroke her.
    “Thanks, Meggie. You’re a good girl. I’ll look at my letters, shall I?”
    He went to the deep leather wing-back chair behind his desk. His secretary had left the mail, and Valin began to read through it. He served on a committee with Miss Nightingale and Mr. Gladstone, Chancellor of the Exchequer. They were working to provide employment for veterans of the Crimean War, care for the permanently disabled, and support and education for the war widows and orphans. There were too many men with arms and legs blown away. Too many women who had never buried their husbands because the Russian cannons had left nothing to send home.
    Valin worked for a few minutes, then turned his attention to a scheme to educate and place scientifically trained nurses in hospitals. He was cursing the backwardness of the old medical establishment when his secretary, Wycliffe Leslie, knocked and asked to be admitted. Valin opened the door. With a wooden expression, Mr. Leslie held out a thick envelope. His manner sent a chill of warning through Valin as he accepted the envelope.
    “Thank you, Leslie. What is it?”
    Mr. Leslie cleared his throat. “Items given to me by Lord Acton, which he wishes to bring to your attention immediately, sir.”
    Refraining from expressing his true feelings, Valin thanked his secretary and dismissed him. He shut the door and leaned against it while he glared at the envelope.
    “Hell and damnation. Not again.”
    Inside the packet, Valin found