Marianne And The Marquis. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Drew yawned as he leaned his head against the high back of his chair. It was now well past midnight and nothing had happened. Earlier that evening, he had carried his chair to the window, giving himself a clear view of the cove below. He had been lucky to find a suitable property, but it belonged to the Edgeworthy estate and had once been home to a cousin of the elderly lady who owned it now. His agent had negotiated the lease for him, telling him that the lady’s man of business had been very willing to rent it to Drew for a few months. He had found the local man eager to be of service when they arrived the previous day.

      He had given Drew the key, saying, ‘You will find it a solid house, though nothing has been done to it for years, Mr Beck. The last occupier fell to his death from the cliff path and Lady Edgeworthy thought it best to shut the place down. However, she will be happy to rent it to you for as long as you wish.’

      ‘That is most kind of her,’ Drew said. ‘As I told you, I am here for my health…’ He gave a little cough behind his hand. ‘Sea air and exercise will benefit me greatly, and I like to watch the gulls as they circle over the cliffs.’

      ‘Well, if you feel it will suit you. I’ve had the house cleaned, of course—shall I hire a woman to cook and clean for you every day?’

      ‘Thank you for having the house cleaned,’ Drew said, ‘but I have brought my manservant—he will care for me as he always does.’

      Drew was smiling to himself as that servant entered the room, carrying a decanter of brandy and a glass on a small tray, which he set down on a table nearby.

      ‘Will you be wanting me again this evening, sir?’

      ‘No, thank you, Robbie. If I were you, I should get some sleep. You will have enough to do in the next few weeks—and I may need you one of these nights.’

      ‘Right you are, Captain.’

      ‘It’s just Mr Beck for the moment,’ Drew reminded him gently. Robbie had been his batman in Spain, and had returned to the estate with him when he sold out, caring for his personal needs much as he had while they were both soldiers. He knew that some of his neighbours, and indeed the other servants at the Manor, found it an odd arrangement, for Robbie was no picture-book hero with his scarred face and black patch over one eye. ‘We want to appear as ordinary as possible. I am recovering from illness and you are my faithful manservant.’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ Robbie replied. ‘It might be better if you called me Harris—some might find Robbie a mite familiar. You can get away with it as Marlbeck, but not as Mr Beck, I believe.’

      ‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ Drew acknowledged. ‘But when we are alone it does not matter, Robbie.’

      ‘Right you are, Captain.’

      Drew grinned as his servant left the room. Robbie never missed a trick, and perhaps it was his intelligence and his dry humour that had forged the bond between them. Robbie had patched Drew’s wounded shoulder with the same dexterity as he repaired his uniform, his manner usually polite but direct, though it had sometimes bordered on insolence when he considered that his officer was stepping out of line. And there had been times during his wild days when the only man who could steady him with a word or a look had been his faithful batman. Drew had been damned lucky to find such a loyal friend to serve him!

      He had chosen to bring Robbie as his confidant in this mad adventure, for it was as such he saw it, knowing that he could rely on the man to keep his mouth shut and do whatever he asked of him. The agent had provisioned the house before they came down, and for the past two days they had lived in splendid isolation, eating their way through the generous hamper his chef at Marlbeck had prepared. When that was finished, it would be plain rations, because Robbie’s cooking was not his best asset.

      Drew hoped they would not receive many visitors up here, which was one of the reasons he had chosen the house, but he knew that he ought out of politeness to pay at least one social call. He must visit Lady Edgeworthy, if only to introduce himself.

      He looked out of the window again. The moon was full and the sky clear of clouds. It was unlikely the smugglers would risk landing this night, because they would be too easily seen. He might as well follow his own advice, and go to bed.

      For a moment the picture of a woman’s face came into his mind. She had taken up the stranded passengers from the damaged coach he had helped to manoeuvre from the road the previous day. Something about her face had made him stare, possibly too long and too intently, for as her carriage passed him he had seen a spark of anger in her eyes. He smiled at the memory, suspecting that she was as spirited as she was beautiful, though undoubtedly a lady. And not at all the meek woman he had envisaged as making his wife one day in the hope of an heir. She was far too good for a man such as he, for he knew that he would break the heart of an innocent girl. Far better to find a widow who would tolerate his restless nature for the sake of a comfortable life.

      Besides, it was unlikely that he would ever see the beauty again.