The Soldier Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’ve always found darkness soothing when I took the time to appreciate it.”
    “And from what would the Earl of Rosecroft need soothing?” She nearly snorted at the very notion.
    “I’ve felt how you feel,” he said simply. “As if another had all I needed and lacked, and he didn’t even appreciate what he had.”
    “You?” She expostulated in disbelief but walked more slowly and made no objection to his hand lightly touching her back. “What could you possibly want for? You’re the firstborn of a duke, titled, wealthy; you’ve survived battles, and you can charm little girls. How could you long for more than that?”
    “My brother will succeed Moreland, if the duke ever condescends to expire. This harum-scarum earldom is a sop thrown to my younger brother’s conscience, and his wife’s, I suppose. He and my father had considerable influence with the Regent, and Westhaven’s wife may well be carrying the Moreland heir. Anna made the suggestion to see Rosecroft passed along to me, and Westhaven would not rest until that plan had been fulfilled.”
    “How can that be?” Emmie watched their moon shadows float along the ground as they walked. “A duke cannot choose which of his offspring inherits his title.”
    “He cannot. According to the Moreland letters patent, it goes to the oldest legitimate son surviving at the time of the duke’s death.”
    “Well, you aren’t going to die soon, are you?” She glanced over at his obviously robust frame, puzzled and concerned for some reason to think of him expiring of a pernicious illness.
    “No, Miss Farnum, the impediment is not death, but rather the circumstances of my birth.” There was a slight, half-beat pause in the darkness, a hitch in her gait he would not have seen.
    “Oh.”
    “Oh, indeed. I have a sister similarly situated, though Maggie and I do not share even the same mother. The duke was a busy fellow in his youth.”
    “Busy and selfish. What is it with men that they must strut and carry on, heedless of the consequences to any save themselves?”
    “What is it with women,” he replied, humor lacing his tone, “that they must indulge our selfish impulses without regard to the consequences even to themselves?”
    “Point taken.” For a barbarian, he reasoned quickly and well, and he was a pleasant enough escort. His scent blended with the night fragrances, and it occurred to her he’d already admitted to being comfortable with darkness.
    And in his eyes, in odd moments, she’d seen hints of darkness. He referred casually to serving King and Country, and he admitted now to being a ducal bastard. Well, what would that matter? By local standards, he would be much in demand socially, and the squire’s daughters would toss themselves at him just as they did at Helmsley once long ago—poor things.
    She was so lost in her thoughts she stumbled over a gnarled old tree root and would have gone down but for the earl’s arm around her waist.
    “Steady on.” He eased her up to find her balance but hesitated before dropping his arm. In that instant, Emmie gained a small insight into why women behaved as foolishly as her mother and aunt and countless others had done.
    “My thanks,” she said, walking more slowly yet. The heat and strength of him had felt good, reassuring in some inconvenient way. For twenty-five years, Emmaline Farnum had negotiated life without much in the way of male protection or affection, and she’d been at a loss to understand what, exactly , men offered that would make a woman suffer their company, much less their authority.
    And she still didn’t know, exactly, what that something was, but the earl had it in abundance. The sooner they found Bronwyn a real governess, the better for them all.
    “Why do you still wear black?” the earl asked as he ambled along beside her. “Your aunt died several years ago, and one doesn’t observe full mourning for years for an aunt.”
    “One doesn’t have to, but my aunt was