The Thirteenth Earl Read Online Free PDF

representation of the rest of my family.”
    “Welcome home, Miles,” Thaxton said, as he sank into the seat that was meant for Markwick. He helped himself to the eggs and sausage, finding that sobriety and satisfaction boosted his appetite. “Do keep your temper. There is a lady present.”
    The lady in question, no meek miss, took the seat at the head of the table. Miles scurried to pull her chair out, but his manners were a half step off. In order to seat himself, he had to borrow a chair from the corner, far too plush to properly fit at the table. He sank in, creating the illusion that he was a child, his feet scraping at the floor and his chin near the plates. This might be Thaxton’s best morning in years.
    “Allow me to explain, Cassandra,” Miles said, turning his back on Thaxton. “Despite anything my cousin may have told you, I bear him no ill will. I pity him. His sickness has made him paranoid.”
    “I am not sick,” he snapped, unable to catch the protest. “My father is.”
    “Ah, yes,” Miles said, swiveling. “How is the Earl Vane?”
    “His situation does not change.”
    “How awful,” Miss Seton said, meeting his gaze from behind Miles’s glare. “It must be difficult for you.”
    Thaxton felt a weird stab in the area of his heart. He did not like it.
    “It is . . . manageable,” he said, cursing the slight hitch in his voice.
    A silence spread in which Miles faded out of the room and Thaxton could only see Miss Seton, her dark eyebrows a straight slash of disquiet across her forehead.
    “If you would excuse us,” Miles said, “as much as I sympathize with your plight, Thaxton, my fiancée and I have a lot to catch up on.”
    “That is not my fault,” he returned with a serenity he had not felt for months. “It is yours.”
    “Let it go, Miles, please,” Cassandra said, with a bit of a waver. “Lord Thaxton obviously needs to eat . . .”
    “Obviously,” Thaxton agreed.
    “. . . and he is doing us no harm. Ignore him and tell me about Scotland.”
    Miles made a solid go of sitting upright in his chair. Thaxton snickered.
    “There is not much to tell,” Miles said, speaking directly to Cassandra. “I was hoping to find an occupation in order to supplement your dowry, along with returning my family’s abandoned Scottish estate to its former glory. I knew that once my father passed, I would have to deal with expenses on my own. But, I tell you, after growing up around such excess—the viscount here would be a good example—it is quite hard to do an honest day’s work.”
    “Pssh,” Thaxton said, wiping his mouth. He had decimated a good portion of their food. “Growing up around nobles is not the reason you have trouble being a man.”
    Though she might have denied it, he saw Miss Seton smile. Miles was apparently deciding whether or not to retort. He chose to continue.
    “As it stands, I found nothing that would suit me, except possibly academic work. The estate renovations have progressed enough to make it our home and will conclude once we have . . . a bit more money to spend. But, my darling, how have things been here?”
    Thaxton tried to clamp his mouth shut, to not say anything. It was futile. He could not let the man’s utter neglect and insensitivity stand.
    “Miles, have you any idea,” he cut in, “what Miss Seton must have had to endure the years you left her here? What you sentenced her to, playing around in Scotland? If you think gossip is anything less than vicious, you are naive.”
    Miss Seton’s mouth fell open a bit, a delicate oval. Conversation at the table ground to an unceremonious halt, saved only by the entry of Spencer and Eliza.
    “Miles,” Spencer said, not exactly with warmth. “I trust you had a safe trip.”
    “Too long. I was so anxious to get back,” Miles answered, dewy-eyed.
    Don’t scoff, Jonathan, Thaxton told himself. Just don’t. He noticed the countess fix on him, regarding his presence as an