Netherby Halls

Author:Claudy Conn [Conn, Claudy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: regency romance, paranormal historical, steamy
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

~ Sixteen ~

THE MARQUIS MADE no further attempt to speak with Sassy after the intermission. When Percy finally bade his farewell to Sophy, Justin smiled to himself, sat back against the seat of his high-perch phaeton, and sighed.

A thoughtful silence ensued, until Percy broke it resoundingly with, “Damnation and fire, Justin! Just what is your game?”

The marquis leveled his friend with a look and said, “My game?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Percy pointed a righteous finger. “I have known you long enough to know when you are being the very devil. What I don’t know is why?”

“Really, Percy, I should think you would be floating with happiness at having successfully patched up your little squabble with Miss Delleson, but here you are ranting at me like a madman.” The marquis chuckled and looked away. He knew his friend well enough to know that Percy was not about to give it up.

“Don’t misread me, Justin, grateful to you—was a splendid notion you had of getting up a party to go to the theater. But I know you, and I have this gut feeling that something was behind it, just like I know you didn’t bring me to Bristol just because you wanted to help me with Sophy. There is another reason.”

“Hang it all, man. That is very bad of you, I must say. I have been subjected to Petruchio convincing Kate that the moon is the sun and the sun the moon more times than I can count. So the evening offered me little more entertainment than watching you further yourself in Sophy’s eyes.”

“Gammon!” Percy replied, unashamed. “Wait a minute—by Jove and damn, why didn’t I see it sooner?” He slapped his knee jovially. “’Tis the Winthrop chit, isn’t it? You have made a push to have her, and she won’t have you. Well, that stands to reason. You can’t offer a vicar’s daughter a carte blanche and think she will jump at the chance, now can you?”

“Go to the devil,” the marquis said amiably.

“Hold a minute. Did you ask her to join us this evening? You did—you did, and she refused, went with the local doctor instead—that fellow Bankes, who by the way I found too … I am not sure what the word is, but don’t like him.”

“She had already been asked by Bankes, who had the forethought to invite her entire class. He was quite above board in his attentions.”

“Jealous! That is what it is. You are jealous. Damn if it isn’t written all over your face.”

“It pains me to say this to you again, but you leave me no choice. Go. To. The. Devil.”

“Well, look at that, the libertine Marquis of Dartmour, struck down by a sweet lovely. But, Justin, you cannot expect constancy from a chit you don’t even really know?”

“Constancy? What is that, and what man past his eighteenth year expects it?” The marquis scoffed.

“You did as I recall.”

“Yes, I did—did being the word. At eighteen, I did expect it—at nineteen I knew better. Much better.

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