Netherby Halls Read Online Free Page A

and
thought I’d have a look-see.” He studied him a moment and added
baitingly, “Do you know how you appear? I cannot imagine you would
allow the Beau to observe your disheveled appearance unless you
were out of your mind with grief.”
    “The Beau?” Mr. Lutterel pulled himself up with a
start. “Never say he is here?”
    “No, as it happens he is still at Oatlands this week,
which is a fortunate circumstance for you. What would he think? No
doubt he would cut the connection.” Inwardly, the marquis was
grinning, though he kept a grim expression. His friend fancied
himself a man of fashion and was proud that Beau Brummell counted
him as part of his circle.
    Percy, however, sank back onto his hands and sighed
heavily. “What does it matter? What does anything matter?”
    Justin Dartmour, Eighth Marquis of the House of
Dartmour, threw up his hands and then leaned on the back of the
wooden chair he straddled.
    Mr. Lutterel gazed at him wonderingly but kept silent
as the marquis lit into him. “I see. You have decided to give her
up. Poor spirited, Percy.”
    “What? What’s that you say? Give her up? Hell and
fire, Justin, I have done no such thing. What a paltry thing to say
to me. And wait—who was it who said, ‘Forget the chit. Move
on.’ ? You said that only last week!”
    “As to that, it appears my excellent advice was for
naught, as apparently you have been unable to do so. I find that
you are attached more deeply than I suspected, but I tell you to
your head, this whimpering … ’tis disgusting!”
    Percival Lutterel attempted to get to his feet but
was detained by the marquis’s firm clasp on his shoulder. “No, ol’
boy—don’t call me out. I should be forced to delope, and then you
would in all probability put a bullet through me—an act I am
persuaded would cause you as much pain as it would me.”
    Percy’s eyes twinkled at the humor behind this, and
for a moment the marquis saw a return of his sunny smile. “You are
a despicable, Justin.” He shook his head slowly and pronounced, “A
dog.”
    “So I am. Nevertheless, I believe I can help you in
your present plight,” the marquis offered on a serious note.
    “Help me? ’Tis impossible. You read her note—she
means to marry Grey!” replied Percy, groaning.
    “The devil is in it that she just might—if you allow
her to do so!” the marquis countered.
    “Allow her? How in God’s name am I to prevent
her?”
    “I have given it some thought, Percy, and I believe
the chit actually wrote you that note in the hopes you would follow
her to Bristol and somehow manage the affair—oust Lord Grey and win
over her mother.”
    “Sounds pretty, Justin, but now I shall sound very
much like you and remind you that reality and fantasy rarely mix.
Besides, this doesn’t sound a bit like the advice you gave me last
week. Why the change of heart?”
    “I haven’t had a change of heart, ol’ fellow. I
simply think a change of tactics is in order, as evidently you
don’t mean to forget the girl as I advised you to do.”
    “You don’t understand!” Percy wailed.
    “Oh, but I do. Lord Grey has title and more wealth
than you. Her mother wishes her to accept his hand, but does the
lady really wish it?”
    “What does it matter? They won’t let me near
her.”
    “That, my friend, is where I come in,” the marquis
said glibly.
    “Eh, what mean you?”
    “Mrs. Delleson has an eye for titles and money. Why
not dangle mine in front of her?”
    “What the deuce?” Percy exclaimed.
    “I shall accompany you to Bristol, where I am quite
certain you shall not be refused admittance while in my company.”
The marquis’s voice was dry.
    A fog of brandy swirled in Percy’s mind, but some of
the marquis’s words made a clear path through the fog. “By
Jove … by Jove, I say!”
    The marquis grinned. “Then it is settled, and we
leave for Bristol?”
    “Hold a moment.” Percy’s gray eyes narrowed. “Why are
you doing