The King of Threadneedle Street Read Online Free PDF Page A

ready to settle down.”
    “Settle down? In the country, as a bachelor?”
    “I want a project. No, I need a project.”
    “Juggling world markets is a project.”
    “That is sport. A project is turning a pile of rubble into a home worthy of a lord’s family.”
    “Impressive. I suppose by the time you finish the old castle, you will have a family to put in it.” Saints, had she sounded as jealous and gloomy as she felt?
    Over the course of half a dozen visits to the tenants, her jealousy turned into unwise longing. Lord Preston held a baby, sang drinking songs, lost a fencing duel to a six-year-old, and re-shod an old mare. He was the Andrew she remembered; dutiful, kind, and playful. His future tenants adored him like Robin Hood. Alysia should know better.
    The vicar’s wife had thought the spreading illness was influenza. They turned onto the road to the village, and Andrew said, “If the Old Man wants the drainage canal done in six weeks, I will personally see to it that it’s done in two.”
    “Oh, no.”
    “What?”
    She nodded to the bend ahead on the road. “Mrs. Jennings. Too late to hide.”
    The insufferable neighborhood busybody had already spied them from her barouche. She thumped the poor driver on the head with the handle of her parasol to make him stop.
    With ruffles of lace on her bonnet bobbing like the wattles of a rooster, she shook her head at Alysia but addressed Lord Preston. “Out for a ride, my lord?” Before either could answer she went on, “I saw you coming from Mrs. Marris’ house, and Mrs. Bronston tells me Lady Remington has just arrived at Ashton?” Her cold glare added silently, Why are you out alone with a courtesan’s daughter?
    Alysia opened her mouth to explain, but Andrew interrupted, “Earlier, Miss Villier was all business, visiting my father’s tenants. Now I intend to lead her off the road and debauch her in the woods.” He wagged a brow at Alysia, who groaned aloud while Mrs. Jennings grasped the edge of the door and gulped for air.
    “Good day to you, Mrs. Jennings.” He tipped his hat. “If you will excuse me, I am off to find a nice meadow, if you catch my meaning.”
    Andrew nudged his gelding and rode past a speechless Mrs. Jennings. He turned and stretched out a hand to Alysia. “Will you come, my love?”
    Alysia nodded to Mrs. Jennings and followed after Andrew, certain he must feel a prickling of her wish for him to be smitten by lightning. The tension charged, taut like a cord stretched between them. Finally Andrew turned in the saddle and half-shouted, “What? What is it?”
    Alysia tilted her head to arch an eyebrow at him, and he shifted his weight. Her silence clearly unnerved him.
    “I can feel your wrath burning on my skin! Are going to strike me down?”
    “If only.”
    “Come now. You can’t be upset about my teasing that old hen.”
    She shook her head and closed her eyes in forbearance. “What may be a lark for you may have serious consequences for me.” He scoffed, and Alysia tried to control the frustration in her voice. “The world doesn’t fit in my pocket. Can you not understand that everyone, excepting you, must play by the rules or be punished?”
    “Perhaps I want you in my pocket, Lisa.” He used a deep, buttery voice, but she was in no mood to play.
    She looked away over the hills, communicating that she didn’t wish to discuss it further. Andrew stared a long while, and she refused to meet his gaze. The longer the silence drew on, the more she condemned his thoughtlessness. No doubt Andrew would be quoted verbatim, without the sarcasm, at the church social. Unfair, but she also resented his freedom. One wrong word from her , and—
    He steered his gelding close, lifted Alysia’s free hand and unfastened the tiny buttons at her wrist. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled off her glove one finger at a time.
    He kissed the points of her knuckles. “Forgive me.”
    She nearly fell off her horse when he turned her