Charlotte Louise Dolan Read Online Free
Author: The Substitute Bridegroom
doors at the rose garden, now dark and deserted. He could think of nothing but his sister’s words. And her loss.
A loss caused by Captain Darius St. John’s irresponsible actions.
Beth had told him of the man’s offer of assistance, undoubtedly made to appease a guilty conscience. What Nicholas would most like to do would be to run the man through with a sword— to destroy his life the way he had destroyed Beth’s.
The Old Testament said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. That sounded right and proper to Nicholas. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth ... and a husband for a husband. There was no other solution that would help Beth.
He might not yet be of legal age, but he was grown to a man’s size, and St. John would have to take him seriously. Tomorrow he would ride to London and see the captain and, one way or another, force him to agree to a just recompense for the damage his recklessness had caused.
Chapter 2
Charles Neuce poured himself an ample portion of burgundy. He had come to Darius St. John’s rooms for the express purpose of inviting him to dine at White’s, but the captain could not be enticed to join him, not for a meal, nor for a convivial hand or two of cards.
“I don’t know why you’re being so obstinate, St. John. I’m the one with the broken arm. If I can still engage in my normal activities, then you’ve no excuse to hide yourself away from your friends like this.” He tossed off his drink, then eyed the decanter, debating whether he should pour himself another.
“My normal activities for the last four years have consisted of leading my company,” Darius replied harshly, “which is where I’d prefer to be now. To tell the truth, if I’d had the least notion when they ordered me to carry dispatches back here to England that the War Office would keep me kicking up my heels in London for weeks while they bickered with one another as to what instructions I should carry back to Wellington, I’d rather have surrendered to the French instead. If those old fogies aren’t careful, Wellington will have pushed Napoleon out of Spain willy-nilly, without the benefit of their inestimable advice.”
“Well, if you’re so bored waiting,” Charles replied with a grin, “then take me up on some of my suggestions. They’re bound to be more entertaining than sitting in your room moping.”
“Not on your life,” snapped Darius, seeing again red blood on a yellow dress and beautiful blue eyes filled with pain. “Your last idea was not exactly a resounding success.”
“Oh, pooh,” his friend replied. “I wouldn’t call a little thing like a broken arm a failure. All things considered, you’ll have to admit we had a damned good time, even if we are each out the cost of a curricle.”
Darius stared at him, keeping his expression carefully blank to conceal his disgust at the other man’s callous attitude. Was it really the inactivity that was driving him to distraction in London,or was it the shallowness of the people he was forced to associate with?
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good company tonight, Charles, so I shall remain at home this evening and read the new analysis of the Peloponnesian War, which I found at Hatchard’s yesterday.”
“You know, St. John, you’re turning into a damn dull dog. Liked you better before you went off to play soldier.” Picking up his hat and cane, Charles let himself out.
* * * *
Darius was still feeling irritated later in the evening when there was a rap at the door. He considered telling Munke not to bother answering it, but even while he hesitated, it was too late.
“There’s a young gentleman to see you, Capt’n,” Munke reported. “Says his name is Nicholas Goldsborough.”
Just what he needed—the girl’s brother. If he was anything like the fiancé, Darius had a notion to thrash him on the spot, honor be damned. He was not in the mood to put up with another would-be hero’s nonsensical ideas of
A loss caused by Captain Darius St. John’s irresponsible actions.
Beth had told him of the man’s offer of assistance, undoubtedly made to appease a guilty conscience. What Nicholas would most like to do would be to run the man through with a sword— to destroy his life the way he had destroyed Beth’s.
The Old Testament said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. That sounded right and proper to Nicholas. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth ... and a husband for a husband. There was no other solution that would help Beth.
He might not yet be of legal age, but he was grown to a man’s size, and St. John would have to take him seriously. Tomorrow he would ride to London and see the captain and, one way or another, force him to agree to a just recompense for the damage his recklessness had caused.
Chapter 2
Charles Neuce poured himself an ample portion of burgundy. He had come to Darius St. John’s rooms for the express purpose of inviting him to dine at White’s, but the captain could not be enticed to join him, not for a meal, nor for a convivial hand or two of cards.
“I don’t know why you’re being so obstinate, St. John. I’m the one with the broken arm. If I can still engage in my normal activities, then you’ve no excuse to hide yourself away from your friends like this.” He tossed off his drink, then eyed the decanter, debating whether he should pour himself another.
“My normal activities for the last four years have consisted of leading my company,” Darius replied harshly, “which is where I’d prefer to be now. To tell the truth, if I’d had the least notion when they ordered me to carry dispatches back here to England that the War Office would keep me kicking up my heels in London for weeks while they bickered with one another as to what instructions I should carry back to Wellington, I’d rather have surrendered to the French instead. If those old fogies aren’t careful, Wellington will have pushed Napoleon out of Spain willy-nilly, without the benefit of their inestimable advice.”
“Well, if you’re so bored waiting,” Charles replied with a grin, “then take me up on some of my suggestions. They’re bound to be more entertaining than sitting in your room moping.”
“Not on your life,” snapped Darius, seeing again red blood on a yellow dress and beautiful blue eyes filled with pain. “Your last idea was not exactly a resounding success.”
“Oh, pooh,” his friend replied. “I wouldn’t call a little thing like a broken arm a failure. All things considered, you’ll have to admit we had a damned good time, even if we are each out the cost of a curricle.”
Darius stared at him, keeping his expression carefully blank to conceal his disgust at the other man’s callous attitude. Was it really the inactivity that was driving him to distraction in London,or was it the shallowness of the people he was forced to associate with?
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good company tonight, Charles, so I shall remain at home this evening and read the new analysis of the Peloponnesian War, which I found at Hatchard’s yesterday.”
“You know, St. John, you’re turning into a damn dull dog. Liked you better before you went off to play soldier.” Picking up his hat and cane, Charles let himself out.
* * * *
Darius was still feeling irritated later in the evening when there was a rap at the door. He considered telling Munke not to bother answering it, but even while he hesitated, it was too late.
“There’s a young gentleman to see you, Capt’n,” Munke reported. “Says his name is Nicholas Goldsborough.”
Just what he needed—the girl’s brother. If he was anything like the fiancé, Darius had a notion to thrash him on the spot, honor be damned. He was not in the mood to put up with another would-be hero’s nonsensical ideas of
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