Taming the Shrew Read Online Free Page A

brother’s good fortune. She gripped her spoon as she held the Avery creature’s eye, “Whatever happened to that bottle of poison you were praising to the skies? If you’re out of pocket, do let me buy one for you. It’s the least I can do.”
    “Thank you Madam; your thoughtfulness is heart-stopping. Please don’t extend yourself on my account.” He glanced towards his youngest brother and sighed, “I apologise for being rude yesterday. It was ungentlemanly of me and I fear I may have injured your opinion of Hervey.”
    “You needn’t fear Mr de Vere; your brother is only mildly less repulsive than your awful self. I certainly didn’t marry him for the joy of having a flock of orange haired leeches looking down their noses at me because my family name isn’t as illustrious or impoverished.”
    “Is that why you married him, for his name? Poor Hervey...”
    “Your brother knows why I’ve married him and if he ever divulges the reason I’ll kill him.”
    Six orange heads turned to look at their baby brother with concern. “Juliana isn’t going to kill me. Sweetheart, beware my brothers will take you at your word.”
    “Good and don’t call me Sweetheart unless you want to die.” Juliana scowled at her smiling husband. He’d been looking at her with that theatrical adoring expression since she reached the altar. The horrid man had at least five thousand reasons to smile while she couldn’t think of one. The prospect of sharing her bed with the smiling stranger was suddenly real and terrifying and it was all her mother’s fault. The horrid woman had suggested the nightmare and then couldn’t bother to dress for supper let alone attend the wedding of her only child.
    As if the orange haired man sitting to her left could read her thoughts, he turned towards her and said, “I’m sorry your mother couldn’t attend the wedding. She must be very ill. Our mother was ill for years before she died.”
    “That’s not surprising considering she gave birth to nine surviving miscreants in almost as many years. The poor woman probably died of exhaustion. Which de Vere creature are you anyway?”
    “Belvedere Madam, I’m the second eldest present.”
    “Are you? If you were all wearing the same clothes I couldn’t tell you apart.”
    “It’s true. Just last week the lovely Lady Wessex whispered in my ear, ‘Mr de Vere...may I call you Hervey?’ I said, ‘Madam, a woman as beautiful as your good self may call me whatever you like.’ Then she said, ‘I understand you have a certain reputation.’ I said, ‘Madam you put me to the blush. A reputation is nothing if not proved.’” Juliana scowled as six laughing orange men tapped their spoons on the table in approval. “She then invited me to tea...and afterwards said, ‘Oh Hervey...you will come again won’t you?’ I said, ‘Madam I’ll come as often as you desire.’”
    “I’ve got one better.” Virgil de Vere raised his spoon and his brothers stopped tapping to listen. “One of Hervey’s peddlers, Lady St John came up to me at a ball last month and said, ‘Hervey my dear I must see you...urgently.’ I obliged the lady twenty minutes later in a private corner and left her singing Hervey’s praises.”
    The tapping was short lived as Hervey’s amusement faded in response to his wife’s livid expression. “I’ve never had any dealings with Lady St John.”
    Raven de Vere raised his spoon with a smile, “I have...she wanted to sell you some ugly paste jewellery for a fortune. I politely declined on your behalf and left her a satisfied customer.”
    Hervey didn’t join his brothers in tapping his spoon on the table in appreciation. “I think perhaps it might be best if you rude lot finish dinner at a hotel. Juliana looks...tired.”
    Raven de Vere raised his eyebrows, “Tired? She looks like Queen Boudicea ready to attack the Romans.”
    “Vaughn de Vere forced a smile at his enraged sister-in-law, “Well, good luck, horse shoes