The Honorable Heir Read Online Free PDF

furrows beside his lips that added ten years to his five and twenty. “Rage. Pure and simple rage that she would steal and lie and cheat her husband, my old friend, and then the Baston-Wards, and act as though she were the affronted one.”
    “She is rather cool for a lady we accused of stealing a fortune in gemstones.” Florian drummed his fingertips on the top of the cello’s case.
    Tristram recalled seeing her ladyship drumming her fingers against her own wrist and shook his head. “Not as cool as all that. She’s anxious about something.”
    “Being caught in her larceny.” Florian grinned as though the prospect of catching her ladyship in the act of thievery pleased him. “Now, if you will excuse us, Tris, we would like to do some pursuing of our own.”
    Tristram stepped aside and opened the door for the men. They moved down the hall with strides long and fast enough to fall minutely shy of a trot. He followed at a more leisurely pace, getting trapped behind a crowd of older men who reeked of cigar smoke and talked too loudly. They reminded him of his father—wealthy, self-satisfied men who spoke of nothing but stock investments, railroads and land. They talked of ordering this person to do this and that person to do that. How many of those minions were their sons, whom they called disappointments? If any of those sons of these American equivalents of noblemen wanted to go into the church, they, too, would more than likely be shoved into a profession for which they were wholly unsuited, or worse, be like his brother and have no profession at all, to their own destruction.
    Perhaps he was being judgmental without cause and many of these men and their offspring wanted to do good in the world, as did Tristram. With the stipend his father promised him if he succeeded in finding the gemstones and proving he was not a ne’er-do-well embarrassment to the Wolfe family, Tristram could continue the charity to help discharged soldiers too damaged by war to take up their old jobs. If he didn’t solve the matter of the jewels, his father would remove the income and too many of these forgotten servants of the Crown would die in poverty along with their families.
    The steps before him cleared, and he took them down two at a time. He wanted to observe Lady Catherine Bisterne before she was aware of his presence in the ballroom and see if she was as nervous without him around as she had been with him close at hand. He wished to take her hands in his and feel for himself if they were cold with composure or warm with her shame...or the fire he had seen in her luminous dark eyes.

Chapter 3
    Paying visits differs from leaving cards in that you must ask to be received.
    Emily Price Post
    “I told Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Baston-Ward they may call on me today.” Estelle’s cocoa-brown eyes sparked with golden light behind their fringe of long lashes. “And not for Mama’s at home.”
    Catherine set down the slice of dry toast she had barely touched and stared at her younger sister across the breakfast table. “You can’t do that, Stell. They are penniless ne’er-do-wells who are only interested in your trust fund.”
    “They are interested in my music.” Estelle clipped each word. “Both are accomplished musicians who have no instruments on which to practice here.”
    “They don’t even have titles to recommend them.”
    Color bloomed along Estelle’s cheekbones. “I’d rather my friends have only their musical ability to recommend them than someone like your husband, who had only his title to recommend him.”
    The toast crumbled between Catherine’s fingers. Tears stung her eyes and she looked away from Estelle, focusing on the expanse of Tuxedo Lake, white edging the wavelets in the center. A sheen of ice rimmed the shore like her heart—cold on the outside, turbulent in the center.
    “You’re right, Stell.” Catherine’s throat constricted so she couldn’t speak above a murmur. “Edwin chose to give nothing to