The Reluctant Viscount. Lara TempleЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Three

      Adam pulled on the reins gently and halted the curricle just outside an old Tudor-style building on the High Street where a large sign announcing Milsom’s Bookshop and Circulating Library hung above two large bay windows. This had been one of his favourite places in Mowbray ten years ago and it had not changed at all—the sign was even still very slightly crooked. In fact, it was amazing how little had changed, at least outwardly, in the ten years since he had left.

      He handed the reins to Jem, his head groom and the only man amongst his staff whom he trusted with his horses, and jumped out of the curricle. A passing matron with a child hanging on to either hand shot him a look of alarm and hurried ahead, dragging her offspring with her, and Adam sighed. He was beginning to understand what it felt like to be a freak in a travelling fair. Mowbray might not be as large as nearby Oxford, but he would have thought it was large enough to ensure that not everyone had nothing better to do than either stare at him or look uncomfortably away. So far the only people who had treated him as a human being rather than an object of curiosity or a source of possible moral corruption were his servants and tenants, and that had taken a week of cautious interaction. It was as if the whole town had taken a leaf out of his mother’s book and erased all memory of the serious young man who had lived there before the scandal. Now he was merely a caricature of a debauched rake.

      He headed into Milsom’s. None of the previous Lord Delacorts had been avid readers and this was one deficiency he wanted to right as soon as possible. He had no intention of spending too much time in Mowbray and he didn’t particularly mind being a social pariah, but if there was no other entertainment to be had while immured in Oxfordshire, he might as well have some good books to read. A bell jangled faintly as he entered and two men on either side of a long counter turned towards him.

      ‘Adam!’ The younger man straightened abruptly from his lounging position and the ornate silver-rimmed quizzing glass he had been twirling slid from his fingers and hit the counter with a dull thud. He had a boyish face and very pale flaxen hair which demanded all of his valet’s considerable skill to whip into the current au coup de vent fashion of artlessly disordered curls.

      ‘Lord Delacort,’ said the older man, much more pleasantly, and Adam nodded to him first.

      ‘Good day, Mr Milsom. Hello, Percy. Mr Milsom, I was hoping you might assist me in purchasing some books. I brought a list...’ He produced the folded list and handed it to the older man, who spread it out on the counter, his eyes brightening as he scanned its length.

      ‘Yes, indeed...’ he murmured absently, nodding to himself. ‘We have some volumes here, but most I will have to request from London, My Lord.’

      ‘I understand. There is no hurry, Mr Milsom. Whatever you can provide me with today, I would be grateful.’

      ‘Of course, My Lord. Right way, My Lord.’ Without a glance at Percy he turned and disappeared into a back room, leaving the cousins together.

      Percy’s gaze flickered towards the door and then back to Adam; he raised his quizzing glass and viewed Adam’s riding clothes and caped greatcoat with a slightly derisive twist to his generous mouth.

      ‘You know, Adam, you really should have Libbet give your valet some advice on tailoring now that you’re settled. Stultz, my fellow. I can see you favour Weston and I can’t fault his fabrics and his stitching, but really, that coat is quite commonplace.’

      Adam surveyed Percy’s nipped-waist coat, pale primrose-coloured pantaloons, the carefully arranged cravat secured with a ruby pin and the uncomfortably high shirt points. But the most impressive article of clothing was a waistcoat elaborately embroidered with what looked like tulips and long-tailed parrots, shot through with silver and gold thread.

      ‘Stultz, you say? I don’t think I could quite carry it off with the same panache as you, Percy. Did I pay for that pin or was it poor Ivor?’

      Percy’s hand rose towards the gleaming jewel, then dropped. He straightened, pushing away from the counter.

      ‘It’s not enough to cut off my allowance. You want to dun me now?’ he asked bitterly.

      ‘Not unless I have to, Percy. Just try not to annoy me too much while I’m here, will you? I’ll be gone in a couple of weeks and you should have the field back to yourself. At your own expense, though, of course.’

      ‘Blast it, man, you made your point—I told Libbet we need to scale back, but you can’t cut me off completely, Adam. I’m your heir! I’m a Delacort!’

      ‘Precisely, you’re another in a long line of useless wastrels, myself included. And right now I happen to be in charge, which means you will have to make do with what you have.’

      ‘Blast you, Adam, you have no right...’

      ‘But I have every right, Percy. At least for the moment. Keep that in mind and keep your hand out of my pocket.’

      Percy took a step forward.

      ‘I wish you had—’ He broke off, his face unappealingly crimson.

      ‘What? Got myself killed and saved everyone the bother of dealing with me? Probably, but the fact is that I didn’t. This is the reality. Deal with it. I am sure Libbet can keep you looking respectable even on your income. Though you might have to forgo these...entertaining waistcoats.’

      The ugly look on Percy’s face cleared with such rapidity Adam turned around even before the bells on Milsom’s doors announced new customers. Three ladies entered. The first was a sweet-looking young woman in a bright jonquil pelisse over a white dress with several finely embroidered flounces, whose eyes lit up the moment they settled on Percy. She was followed by a plump woman of indeterminate age and unconvincing bright coppery hair tucked under an impressive high poke bonnet decorated with a spray of scarlet mock cherries. The last to enter was Miss Drake, dressed in a simple rose-coloured pelisse over a white muslin frock. Her gaze narrowed as it settled on the two men and Adam tried not to smile at the evident annoyance in her remarkable eyes.

      ‘Mr Somerton...’ Miss Aldridge breathed and Percy took a step forward.

      ‘Miss Aldridge! Mrs Aldridge! Miss Drake! How fortuitous! Would it be too much to hope you might join me for a walk along the garden promenade? It would be such a pity to insult the sun by remaining indoors on such a beautiful day! I promise to escort you back to Milsom’s at the first hint of a cloud.’

      Adam watched the expressions on each of the women’s faces appreciatively. Miss Drake’s stony look did nothing to daunt Percy or the young Miss Aldridge, who continued to stare at him with a fatuously blissful look. And since Mrs Aldridge happily assented to the change in their plans, Miss Drake had nothing more to do than announce she would join them once she’d collected the book she had ordered. Percy bowed graciously, tucked Miss Aldridge’s hand about his arm and beckoned Mrs Aldridge to precede him.

      Adam watched as the party stepped outside, Percy’s fair hair gleaming halo-like in the summer shine before the doors closed behind them. He felt Alyssa