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Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress. Bronwyn ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.

Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress - Bronwyn Scott


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youngest sister who was thirteen now; and Cousin Beth, who had run Peyton’s household for years before Peyton married Tessa.

      ‘Where’s Eva?’ Crispin asked, taking a mental roll call in his head once they were all seated and realising one of the four Branscombe sisters was missing.

      ‘She’s in London with Aunt Lily,’ Tessa answered from the foot of the table.

      ‘Isn’t that a bit early?’ Crispin had never liked the Season and it was beyond him to imagine why anyone would go up to town earlier than necessary. That Eva had gone months in advance bordered on the point of ludicrous.

      Tessa smiled. ‘She’ll come out this year. She turned eighteen immediately after Christmas. She and Lily wanted to get a good start on her wardrobe.’

      Crispin wondered how his brother did it, acting as a legal guardian for Tessa’s three sisters; three Seasons to put together and then weddings to follow if those Seasons were at all successful, extra Seasons to follow if they weren’t. Either way, there would be more endless twaddle. The very thought of all that frippery and nonsense was enough to put a man off his oats. Yet, Peyton looked as if he’d weathered the first two débuts quite well. In fact, his brother looked to be a well-satisfied man, sitting comfortably at the head of his table. There’d been a time not long ago that Crispin had doubted Peyton’s ability to embrace such a life. Then Peyton had fallen in love with Tessa and that love had changed him, as it had his other brother, Paine.

      Crispin took a bite of excellent roasted beef and suppressed a shudder. He was not falling in love. He had no desire to be changed. It was all right for his brothers to change. But he had no intentions of giving up his wandering and adventures. He liked his life just the way it was. All he needed was a horse beneath him and the wide world spread out before him. Women had other expectations.

      Still, coming home for a while felt good. Crispin ate the well-cooked food with gusto and enjoyed the conversation flowing around him as everyone brought him up to date on events in the family. Although there were several family members at dinner, there were others missing besides Aunt Lily and Eva. His brother Paine had taken his family to visit his wife’s cousin, Greyson. Greyson was interested in Paine’s opinion on some new investments and Greyson’s wife, Elena, was expecting their second child in late spring. Petra and Thomas had set the date of their wedding for September particularly out of consideration for them. Crispin wondered if he’d still be here for it.

      At last, Tessa rose, giving the signal for the women to join her in the drawing room. Thomas rose too. ‘I’ll join the women tonight, Dursley, and leave you alone with your brother. No doubt there is still more to catch up on and I don’t wish to intrude,’ he offered graciously.

      ‘He’s a very nice young man,’ Crispin commented as the group trooped out of the room.

      Peyton nodded with a smile. ‘We couldn’t be more pleased for Petra. They’re very happy together and wellsuited.’ Reaching for the decanter, he poured them each a glass. ‘Cheers, brother.’

      ‘Ah, this is the good stuff.’ Crispin drank down the brandy with relish. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had brandy of this calibre.’

      ‘The perks of being home,’ Peyton offered cryptically. ‘Did you work out an arrangement with Rory?’

      Crispin chuckled. ‘Tessa could have told me Rory was a woman and a sharp-tongued one at that. A little forewarning wouldn’t have gone amiss.’

      Peyton grinned. ‘Aurora Calhoun is strong minded.’

      ‘To say the least.’

      Peyton poured them each another glass. ‘Tessa likes her. She and Petra helped her get the riding school started a couple of years ago.’

      Crispin eyed his brother over the rim of his snifter. He wasn’t surprised to hear that Tessa had championed the unconventional Miss Calhoun. Tessa might look like an English angel on the outside, but he knew his brother’s wife well enough to know it was merely a façade. ‘Do you know what goes on out there?’

      ‘You mean the riding astride and wearing trousers part? Yes, I am quite aware of it, although I must caution you that it is not common knowledge. Don’t tell me you’re shocked? You’re the most untraditional person I know besides Tessa. I would have thought you’d applaud her. A woman’s lot alone in this world is almost impossibly difficult, yet, against all the insufferable odds, Aurora Calhoun has found some degree of success. As much as she can hope for, I think, given the circumstances of her gender and situation.’

      Peyton’s remark was quite telling. Crispin took a moment to digest the layers of his brother’s comment. His brother was devoted to his wife. He would tolerate his wife’s eccentric friends for her sake. But Peyton’s comment implied he did more than tolerate Aurora Calhoun; he respected her and, for that reason, was willing to make exceptions on her behalf. Such a concession from Peyton made the interesting Miss Calhoun all that more intriguing.

      ‘I don’t care what she does. She’s entitled to her own eccentricities,’ Crispin said shortly, realising it was true. It wasn’t the unconventional nature of her school that bothered him. It was simply she who had him all churned up inside for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She definitely stirred his blood.

      ‘I rather thought the two of you would be good friends. She knows horses as well as you do,’ Peyton was saying. ‘That black of yours looks exotic. She’ll be interested to hear about him. For that matter, I’d be interested to hear about him too.’

      Peyton fixed him with a friendly stare and Crispin knew what was coming next. Inquiries about the ‘exotic’ nature of the stallion were Peyton’s prelude to the bigger question. Whatever else changed about Peyton, this one thing would not: Peyton would always be his older brother.

      ‘So, Cris, before we rejoin the others, why don’t you tell me what you and my government have been doing for the last three years? The short version, of course.’

      Crispin grinned and drew a deep breath. It was good to be able to talk with someone who appreciated the depth and importance of his work. This was something Peyton understood with extreme clarity. ‘Let me start with the Eastern Question…’ he began, his passion for his work evident in his recitation of events and astute analysis of the many evolving situations on the Continent.

      

      At last, Crispin leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its two hind legs, and drew his report to a close. ‘And that, dear brother, is the short version. I haven’t even begun to tell you about British interests in America. There’s another powder keg just waiting to ignite.’

      Peyton nodded noncommittally at the implied reference to a future posting. ‘Well, you’ve done your duty for Britain. Perhaps it’s someone else’s turn this time.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ Crispin replied vaguely, knowing the direction of his brother’s thoughts. Tonight was not the time to discuss his next assignment. When the posting came, Crispin was almost certain it would be an assignment to the American South, a place he was itching to explore on a personal as well as political level. Such a posting would make the sale of Woodbrook imperative. He’d be in America a very long while, more of a relocation than a temporary assignment. Crispin reached for the decanter. There’d be time to quarrel with Peyton over that later. Tonight he simply wanted to enjoy the peace of being home.

      

      ‘The long and short of it is, I am running out of time.’ Gregory Windham leaned forwards across the cherrywood desk in his estate office, pushing a small leather pouch of coins across the desk’s highly polished surface to the man on the other side. The blacksmith, Mackey, had been the one villager he’d been able to actively recruit to his side. The others remained quietly neutral with regards to Aurora Calhoun. Damn them.

      His laissez-faire strategy had not worked. He’d patiently waited for Aurora Calhoun’s own unique situation to work against her. He’d originally thought the local gentry and the villagers wouldn’t tolerate such a ‘modern’ woman; a


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