What an Earl Wants Read Online Free PDF Page A

he becomes what he’s clearly become.”
    “An arrogant, to-hell-with-you bastard only an idiot with more
hair than wit would ever dare to say any of that to, in case you haven’t
considered that.”
    “I don’t have to say it, Richard. The man knows his own family
history. He should likewise understand I want my brother away from him. Gideon
Redgrave may not be his father, as he claims he’s not, but he’s still that
arrogant, to-hell-with-you bastard who clearly cares for no one save himself.
Heartless, Richard, there’s no question. Adam was always such a quiet boy.
Gentle, almost painfully shy. I left him once, having no choice, and it broke my
heart. But now that I have a second chance, I can’t simply walk away. The Earl
of Saltwood will have him for breakfast, otherwise.”
    “And you for lunch?”
    Jessica pulled a face at him and then turned to Doreen, who had
just entered from the stairway. “You’re looking more than usually harassed. Is
something wrong?”
    “There was a knock at the door, ma’am. A pounding, more like.
So I went down and answered it so as whoever it was wouldn’t break the door
down, because it sounded as if the wood was already splintering, it did, and
there he was, ma’am, and there he stays until I can talk to you, because that’s
what I told him after he was done telling me what he told me.”
    Richard bent his head and rubbed at his temples. “We don’t need
to know it all, Doreen, as I keep telling you. Just the pertinent bits.”
    “Yes, sir, Mr. Borders, sir. I’m just saying I didn’t invite
the fellow inside, but it was either stand aside or get myself bowled over, sort
of. I told him the house was closed to callers until eight of the clock, but he
paid that no nevermind at all, saying as how he’s here to stay and where’s his
room. I told him, I said, there’s no room here for the likes of
you—rough-looking fellow he is, you know—but he’s still standing there. Right
where he was standing when he first stepped inside as I was telling him to stay
out.”
    “And me out of headache powders,” Richard grumbled, getting to
his feet. “Very well, lead me to him.”
    Jessica snatched up her bonnet, pelisse and gloves. “I’ll go
down with you. The Saltwood coach will be here shortly, if the man meant what he
said, and I don’t think he wastes his words on lies unless they’d be of some
benefit to him, which my presence in Portman Square is not.”
    “That was nearly as convoluted as Doreen, my dear. I’d be
careful of that,” Richard warned, holding open the door so that Jessica could
precede him down the narrow staircase.
    Jessica was still smiling as she reached the first floor and
entered the gaming room, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of tobacco. Other
than the tables, covered each day with white cloths to keep off the dust, the
room was empty...if she didn’t count the near mountain of a young man standing
just inside the main door, turning a large-brimmed hat in his hamlike hands.
    “And you are...?” she asked, not certain she wished to approach
any closer.
    “Seth, ma’am,” he said, lifting his huge bowed head, directing
an innocent wide-eyed blue stare at her. “His lordship sent me.”
    Jessica relaxed for a moment, until it registered with her that
the lad—for he seemed quite young—was dressed like a common laborer. “Oh, for
pity’s sake. You’re the Saltwood coachman? He sent a
dray wagon, did he? Well, you can just go back to his lordship and tell him
thank you very much, but I can find my own way to Portman Square, as his insult
may delay my arrival but it did not dissuade me.”
    “Ma’am?”
    Richard had already gone to one of the front windows and looked
down onto the street. “There’s no coach out there, Jessica. Or dray wagon.”
Allowing the heavy curtain to drop once more, he tapped Seth on his shoulder, or
as near to it as Richard could reach, as Seth was as tall as he was wide. “Why
did his lordship