An Unsuitable Heir by KJ Charles

Author:KJ Charles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Loveswept
Published: 2017-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

A week after their arrival at Crowmarsh, Pen had no more than a fair idea of the layout, a sense of permanent dread, and a place to tumble.

He’d insisted on the third of those. He and Greta were used to exercise, and exercise in the country meant riding, which neither of them knew how to do, or walking, which was uninviting given that it was a bleak, wet winter, and the paths were ankle deep in mud. Pen had therefore asked to use a long, high-ceilinged room as a makeshift gymnasium. The conversation that had provoked had been deeply unpleasant, but then, all the conversations here were.

Tim had suggested the Long Gallery, which was the portrait-lined hall, and since Ponsonby hadn’t responded to the request to move the four great and valuable china vases that stood at intervals along the wall, he had done it himself. Clem offered moral support but refused point-blank to touch anything fragile. Desmond and Phineas raged; Pen made himself not listen. He needed to ground himself in his body before his nerves wrenched him out, and this was how.

He and Greta had both brought practice clothing of a thin and close-fitting knit that accommodated movement. He couldn’t paint, and he didn’t dare wear his hair up in pinned loops as he’d have liked, but he could at least dress as a Flying Starling, and that made him feel a little more himself. Not that there was any way to fly—Pen had found himself thinking, When this house is mine, I’ll have trapezes strung—but they tumbled. Handsprings and somersaults, slow and fast, stretching muscles, using the thundering oversized shoulders and too-large hands of which he felt more and more conscious in the borrowed, formal, relentlessly male clothing thrust upon him at all other times.

Yesterday had been one step too far. It had been New Year’s Day, and the villages around Crowmarsh observed what Pen was informed was the old tradition of visiting, in which hordes of male neighbours descended to pay compliments of the season, leave cards, and drink. The door had stood wide, letting cold air blast in as the house filled up with Berkshire accents, tramping feet, the reek of cigars and spirits. Farmers and gentry and professional men, young and old, in apparently endless numbers. Phineas, Tim, and Clem had set out to “visit” in turn; Pen had refused to come with them, lurking upstairs with Greta. He’d said it was to avoid introducing himself as Mr. Starling if he’d later be there as Lord Moreton, but in truth he simply hadn’t been able to bear the idea. Every interaction in male guise here felt like a nail in the coffin against whose lid his true self was desperately hammering. He was used to the constant background noise of the world telling him what he ought to be, but here, without any relief or respite from judgemental eyes, the muttering had grown to a roar. At least when they tumbled Pen could wear the clothes that said neither man nor woman but acrobat.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.