Almost a Gentleman Read Online Free

the corner. The gas lights accentuated his pallor as he made his way back to his house in Brunswick Square.
    A ragged beggar called out to him from the shadows.
    " 'Ere, guv'nor, got ha'penny for a man down on his luck?"
    Marston pulled a coin from his pocket.
    "Not a ha'penny, old fellow. Too small a thing to hold my wandering attention, don't you know. But here, take this. And better luck to both of us after this night."
    It was a golden sovereign.
    The beggar gaped. The smell from the few rotting teeth left in his mouth was overpowering. Marston nodded politely and strolled off.
    Guv'nor
. Marston allowed himself a small, private grin as he savored the word.
I haven't lost my touch
, he thought,
I'm still as good as ever after three years of playacting the gentleman
. London's poor had sharp eyes, and yet this specimen of that beleaguered class had been absolutely taken in.
    It was invigorating, enlivening, this power to do and say anything he liked. And best of all was the risk and danger of the late-night gaslit streets.
    Marston never worried about whether he'd gulled society people.
That
benighted class couldn't see anything but glamour and social position, style and confident bearing. Glittering gowns and an unsteady tiara were all they'd ever really known of young Lady Claringworth. And after three years they'd grasped nothing of Phizz Marston except for his immaculate dress, style, and bearing. Their shortsightedness made him fearless. For whatever else he might be lacking as a gentleman, Marston knew he had quite enough
ton
to overwhelm any member of the Polite World.
    Almost
as much, he thought suddenly, as the gentleman he'd met earlier this evening. Lord Linseley, wasn't it? Yes, Lord Linseley, the earl with the perfectly knotted cravat. A formidable man: no matter how he might play the simple country squire, there was nothing simple about his inborn grace, lit by the stubborn glint of intelligence Marston had discerned in his blue eyes. Beautiful eyes, Marston thought reluctantly. Dark and dangerously beautiful eyes in a strong and chiseled face.
    Marston's own face softened for just a moment as something threatened to reveal the identity hidden behind his features. Not yet, he told himself as he let himself in at his front door, I'm not ready to think about Lord Linseley yet. He composed his expression. The two gas lamps flanking the entryway illuminated his face: eyes glittering and opaque, mouth falling back into its accustomed cynical curve; no one watching this personage would have taken him for anything but a fashionable young gentleman.
    The butler had gone to sleep, but Marston's valet was waiting up for him, discreetly omniscient, a quiet, steely, gray-haired presence in the evening dimness. Nothing happened in the house in Brunswick Square without Simms' consent.
    "There's a… guest waiting in the small sitting room upstairs, sir."
    Marston raised his heavy brows.
    "Thank you, Simms, I'd quite forgotten I'd made that engagement. Arranged things with Mr. Talbot, you know, so that Billy visits twice a week now. I'm becoming quite the domestic animal, don't you think?"
    Simms nodded somberly, and Marston immediately regretted his little joke.
    Callous of me, I suppose. It's impossible, though, to read his expression. Impossible, even now, to know Mr. Simms's opinion of my late night assignations.
    "Shall I send Billy to your bedchamber, sir?" Simms asked.
    "In twenty minutes, Simms. I'll ring when I'm ready."
    "And you'll want a well-iced bottle of champagne as usual, sir?"
    Marston almost nodded. But he stopped suddenly. "No, Simms, not tonight. A nice pot of tea is what I think I'll be wanting tonight, if it's not too much trouble at this hour."
    Simms hid his astonishment smoothly.
    But he's been well trained for this job
, Marston thought.
All those years of reining in that wild hoyden, Phoebe Vaughan. All his loving patience with her when she
—when I—
insisted upon learning Latin alongside my