Andrew: Lord of Despair by Grace Burrowes - Lonely Lords 07 - Andrew: Lord of Despair

Author:Grace Burrowes - Lonely Lords 07 - Andrew: Lord of Despair [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical, Adult
ISBN: 9781402278662
Amazon: 1402278667
Barnesnoble: 1402278667
Goodreads: 17456370
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Heathgate scowled from his perch on the Willowdale estate desk, an unhappy raptor among the letters, reports, and ledgers of the marquessate, while Andrew wandered the room.

“Gentlemen,” Heathgate began, “the morning’s post has brought an interesting epistle from Douglas Allen. He proposes to call upon me as a courtesy, given that my brother has married his former sister-in-law. I know not what to make of this, but I can hardly refuse him entry.”

Fairly seemed amused, or bemused. “Douglas is a proper old thing, isn’t he? Either that, or he has ballocks the like of which I haven’t seen before.”

“He’s up to something,” Andrew said, picking up a pipe carved of ivory that his father had favored. He brought it to his nose, and still, after thirteen years, caught a hint of vanilla from the bowl. “I don’t want Douglas anywhere around Astrid, but I expect he’ll call at Enfield in due course. I am considering installing Astrid at Oak Hall instead to prevent him from seeing her.”

Also to preserve Astrid from the constant warfare between Lady Heathgate and Cousin Gwen.

Fairly shoved away from his habitual post at the French doors. “I simply do not read the man as a murderer.”

“That’s the difficulty,” Heathgate said. “It’s hard to read him as anything at all, he’s so damned cold.”

Andrew thought of Moscow in winter, and decided Douglas was colder. “You two should know some things about the Allen family. Astrid casually mentioned that the old viscount had also died in a shooting accident. His sons were on the same shoot. My vote for the member of the party with the worst aim goes to Douglas.”

Heathgate closed his eyes. “I am going to be sick.”

Fairly, whose face bore no expression whatsoever, continued to stare out at the bleak, chilly day. “Why don’t we just beat each other bloody, Heathgate? I was the one who approved of the match, as Astrid’s older brother. Simply retching into the bushes won’t answer, when Douglas is the most likely party to end up as guardian of Astrid’s child.”

As Andrew set the pipe back where he’d found it, the firelight winked off the decanters across the room, the gryphon seeming to laugh.

Heathgate shoved off the desk and took a seat in the big leather chair behind it, the result being a sense of enthronement, regardless that two stacks of his correspondence were weighted down with silver rattles.

He picked up one of the rattles and tossed it from hand to hand. “We come across more and more reasons to arrange an unfortunate accident for Douglas Allen. One can’t help but wonder if the world would not be an altogether better place for it.”

Fairly turned, so his back was to the French doors. “We have plenty of reason to avoid the man’s company, though nothing with which to convict him, or even lay charges.”

Andrew had been married one week. Already he and Astrid had fallen into a pattern of assisting each other to dress and undress. She watched him when he washed off the day’s dirt, and he watched her, too.

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