Netherby Halls Read Online Free

point of being consumed
by a fantasy. That wasn’t what happened, but what then ? He
didn’t have the answer, so he tried to forget it, forget her. But
then, without realizing it, his thoughts would stray, he would find
himself staring at a beauty, and that beauty was in his bed!
    An illusion so strong, he had been unable to forget
it. This sort of thing never happened to him. He was a realistic
man, in control of everything he was and was not.
    He had even given chase. At the time he’d thought he
would stop breathing if she escaped him. But she had rounded the
corner, and then suddenly Percy shouted his name at his back,
bringing him back to earth.
    He had snapped out of it as though waking immediately
from a dream. All that now was a memory, and although it was
fading, he could not forget it.
    He and his friend Percy had been visiting the
Dellesons, who were in turn visiting friends in the area. They had
returned to London that very day, but since that time he had
thought about her, dreamt about her—and she remained in his mind
like a haunting memory.
    He came back to the present as a passing pretty
serving girl cast him a saucy smile and threw him a kiss. He tipped
his top hat to her and grinned rakishly, his eyes telling her if he
could stop and catch that kiss with his lips he would.
    London reeked with the aromas of horses,
overpopulation, moneylenders, flashhouses, thieves, and vitality,
and he longed to return to his establishment in the country. He
sighed, for he was weary of the London scene, but at that moment he
had arrived at his club on St. James Street. He pulled his team
over to the curbing and handed the reins to his tiger, who jumped
off the back of the phaeton to take charge. “Walk ’em, lad,” he
instructed. “I shan’t be too long.”
    The tasteful sign identified his club as Watier’s , the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in all of
London.
    He took wide, hard strides up its renowned steps to
find the door opened by a flunkey who received a gratuity for his
trouble. Inside, he gave his hat and cloak to another, and then the
marquis made his way to one of the card rooms.
    He scanned the masculine and elegantly designed room
for the gentleman he sought, found him, and raised a brow as he
noticed his disheveled state.
    “Percy,” he said quietly in way of greeting.
    A pleasant-looking man turned and gave his dearest
friend a sour expression. “Hallo, Justin … you
here …?”
    The marquis grinned to himself as he picked up the
empty brandy glass at Percy Lutterel’s elbow, gazed at it
meaningfully, and then replaced it hard on the table. “Drinking
deep, eh, lad?”
    “Don’t read me any lectures, Justin. For one thing,
you only have one year on me, and for another … I won’t have
it.” Percy sank his chin onto his folded hands resting on the
table.
    “You should know better. Me? Read you a lecture?
Don’t be a fool.”
    “Eh? Then sit down and have a drink with me, ol’ boy.
A man needs his closest friend when he is being delivered to hell
in a cart.”
    “Delivered to hell in a cart?” the marquis repeated
incredulously. “This is no time for you to moon on and on about a
wench!” The marquis pulled up a chair and straddled it.
    “You wouldn’t understand,” moaned Percy as he sat up
and ran a hand through his fair mass of flaxen locks.
    “No, I wouldn’t, because this is not the way to help
yourself!”
    “Damnation, Justin … I’m not mooning over Miss
Delleson, and I’ll thank you not to refer to her as a wench. She
is … a goddess …”
    The marquis’s opinion of Miss Delleson being very
different, he rolled his eyes as he exclaimed, “Good Lord!”
    Mr. Lutterel grumbled, “Well, might as well get it
over with. Just what do you want, for I tell you to your face, I
won’t have you sitting there looking all superior over
me …”
    The marquis resisted a laugh and managed to keep his
tone serious. “Heard you were in your cups these two days,