The Firstborn by Olson Quenby

Author:Olson, Quenby [Olson, Quenby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: World Tree Publishing
Published: 2017-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

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Finnian kept himself to his study for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. He quickly found that simply because he’d left London several weeks before, it didn’t mean that his business remained in town as well. There was the running of the estate to manage, along with all of his other properties—aside from Haughton House in London and Denton Castle, there was a small bit of land up in Scotland which had been favored by previous generations for hunting, and also a pile of stones in Kent that was in dire need of refurbishment. Not to mention the countless investments his father had begun that he was desperate not to see fail under his watch.

And, of course, there was David. It was a bit like having a servant on the payroll, one who continually pilfered from the family coffers and ran up bills that always managed to find their way into Finnian’s hands.

Their last confrontation had ended in a shouting match. No, that wasn’t precisely true. David had shouted, and kicked things, and thrown various breakable objects across the room. And all because Finnian had made the suggestion that he use what allowance he had to settle his debts with tradesmen—tailors, hostlers, bootmakers, and the like—before worrying about any of his supposed ‘debts of honor’, which were all gambling debts and money owed to friends and fellow members of the aristocracy.

David had thrown a fit, behaving no better than a child, as he’d shouted that no one would allow him into any of the clubs, that he’d never be able to show his face at any decent fighting hall. To which Finnian had responded it would do him well to avoid those places anyway .

And then David had stormed out, probably to lose a few more hundred pounds on a game of cards, and Finnian had begun preparations to set out for Derbyshire the next day.

He leaned back in his chair, pushed his hands through his already tousled hair, and tugged at the knot in his neckcloth. He would need to go upstairs and change for dinner soon. As much work as he had before him, he knew that Bess would not forgive him if he attempted to excuse himself from the meal over mere paperwork, as she termed it.

The prospect of another meal with Mrs. Brixton did not excite him. He found himself becoming increasingly frustrated in her presence, and then this morning, when she’d told him she’d rather he continue to be an offensive boor than to make any attempt at fooling her…

Well, those hadn’t been her exact words, but the point was clear enough.

She disliked him. Intensely. And yet she had accepted his invitation to come here, to travel hundreds of miles beyond the boundaries of a town she called home, and all because…

He couldn’t figure her out. Did she merely wish to create some sort of connection between George and the rest of his family? After their

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