The Emerald Swan Read Online Free PDF

concerned. Beforehe had been fully aware of it, she and her entire household, including the incredibly annoying Maude, were installed in his house in the Strand, Imogen’s mission to comfort him in his grief and keep house for him. And five years later they were still there.
    Imogen was a difficult, temperamental woman, but her one all-consuming passion was for her young brother’s well-being. On the death of their mother, she had taken on the ten-year-old Gareth as her life’s commitment. Twelve years older than he, she had smothered him with an affection that had no other outlet … and still hadn’t. Her hapless husband, Miles, had to make do with whatever crumbs fell from the table. And Gareth, while steadfastly resisting the smothering, hadn’t the heart to deliberately hurt his sister. Oh, he knew her faults: her overweening ambition for the Harcourt family that had its roots in her ambitions for her brother, her violent temper, her lack of consideration for her servants and her dependents, her extravagance. But he still couldn’t bring himself to shut her out of his life as he so longed to do.
    And Imogen in her zeal to organize her brother’s happiness had even found him a perfect prospective wife to fill Charlotte’s shoes. Lady Mary Abernathy, a childless widow in her late twenties, was an impeccable choice. An impeccable woman. One who, in Imogen’s words, would never put a foot wrong. She would know exactly how to perform as Lady Harcourt and Gareth need never fear that she would fail in her duty.
    Gareth’s mouth took a wry turn. It was impossible to imagine Lady Mary failing in her duty wherever it might lie. Unlike Charlotte, who had had no concept of duty at all. But Charlotte had been a scarlet vibrant creature where Mary was as pale and still as an alabastermonument. The first had brought him misery, shame, and guilt. Mary wouldn’t take him to the dizzy heights of bliss, but by the same token she would be incapable of hurling him into the depths of humiliation and raging despair. A man had but one chance at happiness and he’d wasted his, so he supposed he must be prepared to settle for peace and quiet.
    His lip curled involuntarily. For some perverse reason it always did when he reasoned with himself along these lines. Not that domestic peace and quiet was a likelihood in the near future … once Imogen had come to grips with Henry’s proposal of marriage to Maude.
    He was officially Maude’s guardian, appointed when her father had died and she had been sent to her nearest relatives in England. But Imogen had always taken responsibility for the girl and until recently he had barely noticed the existence of the pale ailing shadow living in a corner of his house. But once Imogen had decided on Maude’s future he’d been forced to pay attention to his ward’s character—one that seemed to veer between chronic long-suffering invalidism and mulish obstinacy. She would not easily accept the future prepared for her.
    He left the livery stable and strolled through the balmy August afternoon back toward the quay, intending to sharpen his appetite for the Adam and Eve’s supper with a dose of sea air. Gulls wheeled and called above the smooth waters of the harbor and the white cliffs took on a rosy tinge from the setting sun. It was a peaceful-enough scene until he saw the splash of bright orange against the gray sea wall and a curious sense of inevitability—or was it foreboding?—crept up the back of his neck.
    The monkey was sitting beside her on the stone wall, examining his hands intently. The girl was staring out at the quiet harbor, swinging her legs, her wooden pattens thudding rhythmically against the stone. The only boats in the harbor were swinging at anchor and Gareth saw that the tide was running out fast. Of the performers, there was no sign.
    He came up beside her. “Why do I get the impression circumstances are conspiring against you today?”
    She looked up at him dolefully.