Suzanne Robinson Read Online Free PDF

almost a dozen markers, debts his brother owed from horse racing and gambling. “Bloody hell and damnation!”
    The door rattled against his back. Whirling around, Valin yanked it open. Acton stood with his hand raised to knock.
    “Damnation, Acton.”
    His brother held out a folded piece of paper. “I forgot this one.”
    Valin rolled his eyes without taking the paper and stood aside. “Come in.”
    “Got to dress for the ball, old man.”
    “I said come in.”
    With a nonchalant air, Acton strolled into the study and rested a hip on Valin’s desk. Valin stalked toward him, plucked the debt from Acton’s fingers, and read it. Looking up slowly, he stared at his brother. Then he dropped the pile of notes on the desktop and went to the window. He brushed aside a heavy velvet curtain and stared at the darkened garden.
    Without turning around, he said, “You realize, of course, that you’ve managed to waste half your yearly allowance, and it’s only April.”
    “If you weren’t such a miser, I wouldn’t be caught short,” Acton said lightly.
    Valin concealed the hurt this response caused him. It never did to reveal one’s feelings to Acton. “You get exactly what Father provided, and I give you additional funds.”
    “A pittance compared to what you have.”
    Valin released the curtain and faced his brother. “I’ve told you over and over, the income from the North estates is large, but it goes to maintain the houses, the lands, the servants and tenants.”
    “And the beggars and loose women you call veterans and nurses,” Acton said with a bitter smile.
    “I’ll not deprive men of bravery and honor because you waste money playing Ecarte and AllFours. If you can’t control yourself, don’t play cards. If you can’t pick a winning horse, don’t place bets.”
    Acton’s air of insouciance vanished. He swore and banged his fist on the desk. “Why should I live like a pauper just because I was born three years later than you? It’s not fair, by God. Everyone thinks I’d make a better marquess than you. I’m generous and open and easy to talk to. All you do is hide at Agincourt Hall and scowl and yell at everyone.”
    “There’s more to a title than waving and bowing, Acton.” Valin kept his feelings in check as he planted his hands on the desk and leaned toward his brother. “All you think about are the luxuries and privileges of rank, not the responsibilities and damned hard work that go with them.”
    “Ha!” Acton strutted to the door. “Are you going to pay those or not?”
    Valin’s shoulders drooped, and he turned away. “I’ll pay them.”
    “I think it’s the least you can do.” Acton left, slamming the door behind him.
    Feeling himself descend into the wasteland of misery Acton knew how to invoke so well, Valin wandered over to Megan and knelt to stroke her silky fur. He never wanted to fight with Acton. The younger man had suffered when they were children. While their father had browbeaten, criticized,and scolded Valin for his imperfections and treated Courtland as a genius whose eccentricities should be indulged, he’d ignored Acton. Neither the heir nor the genius, neither the hope for the future nor the youngest child, the old marquess had found Acton uninteresting.
    Valin considered this neglect surprising, since it had been Acton who shared their father’s interests—riding, hunting, shooting, gambling, clubs, the London Season, loose women. Acton had nearly ridden himself to death trying to impress the marquess with his equestrian prowess. It had been left to Valin to provide the admiration and attention Acton craved.
    Valin rubbed his cheek against the top of the collie’s head. “Is it my fault he’s so spoiled, Megan?” The dog licked the back of his hand. “You think so? Well, you’re usually right, but Mother was dead. Who else was there to—”
    “Valin?” The door opened again to reveal a stack of books with legs.
    “Come in, Courtland.” Valin jumped