The Tutor (House of Lords) Read Online Free Page B

provide her with generous recompense. Perhaps even enough to rent a small home of her own somewhere in London—for Cynthia loved the city and had no wish to leave it—and live the life she had dreamed of for so long.
    But working for someone as visible as the duke would also come with risks. So far, Cynthia had been able to keep her father from discovering her plan. He thought that she was making friends in society, mixing with young men and women of quality, and seeking out a spouse poised to do great things. She made up little vignettes about her afternoons in the drawing rooms of the well-to-do, her evenings at balls and the theatre, that made it seem as though she was doing exactly what he wanted. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t find out until she was already gone. If not, well, she had reached her majority at her last birthday, and she was technically free to do as she pleased.
    The Duke of Danforth could help her do exactly that. It was a risk she could not afford not to take. He wanted to see her on Monday. She would go.
    Her mind whirling, Cynthia went upstairs to select a gown for their interview.
     
     

THREE
     
    January 6, 1834
     
    “I don’t understand why you have to take up the seat at all,” Lord Anthony Beresford said as he and Charles rode down Rotten Row the morning after his return to town. “Couldn’t you just rusticate up in Suffolk until the Season gets interesting and then come down and hear a few debates?”
    “I could ,” Charles said, “but I think my mother would have my head, and then the shame of having a murderer in the family would kill her. No, I think I shall have to do my duty.” He almost shuddered at the word.
    “It’s deadly dull stuff,” said Lord Beresford, who had been filling his hereditary seat as infrequently as possible for the last four years. “I nearly fell asleep during the king’s speech last year, and that was with Leo poking me in the ribs the whole time.”
    “Well, this year you’ll have to stay awake so you can poke me ,” Charles laughed.
    “Honestly, Bain, are you sure about this? You weren’t exactly the most attentive student at Oxford. I’ve been to at least twenty debates since I took up my seat and I still don’t have any idea what in blazes they’re talking about most of the time. It’s an uphill slog, my friend.”
    Charles nodded thoughtfully. Indeed, it felt as though he had been doing nothing but thinking for the last few days. He had had plenty of time to deliberate in the carriage on the way down, having been forced to ride inside by the inclement weather and the fact that Imogen and Gillian likely would have torn each other to shreds by the time they reached London if he hadn’t been there to keep them apart. His sisters could be sweet and engaging on their own; when forced into a small space together for two days, they became positive Gorgons. And neither of them had wanted to stay at Starling Court after his departure, since Ian would be leaving within a few days for Oxford as well. Charles didn’t blame them. The thought of being trapped in that great rambling house with only their mother for company would have been enough for him to ride a donkey all the way to London if it was the only means of escape.
    But once his sisters had exhausted every polite remark they could make to each other and a few that were less than polite, they still had about twenty hours of traveling left, and most of that had been done in silence. Grateful that he hadn’t had to listen to twenty hours of ball gowns and presentation gowns and every other kind of gown under the sun, Charles had spent much of that time thinking of what lay before him.
    Had he bitten off more than he could chew? Many men he knew sat in the House of Lords, most out of duty, and none of them seemed to have gone ‘round the bend. He could certainly do the same, especially if this woman Imogen had found could really do the things she claimed.
    It would please his mother, too,