Page 57 of One Night with a Prince
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlThe general, only a lieutenant at the time, had received his new posting rather suddenly. Probably that’s what was in the letters—the reason for his posting.
It had to be related to some scandal Lyon and Prinny were involved in together, something Lyon had been escaping England to avoid. But what? If there’d been a scandal, not a breath of it had ever reached beyond the man’s family circle.
And even though Gavin had tapped every source he knew, military and otherwise, no one had any inkling of a connection between Prinny and Roaring Randall Lyon. The man’s rise to generalhad been rather quick, but Lyon had proved himself worthy of praise, so it was plausible that his own merits had fueled his promotions. He’d certainly acquitted himself well during the war, and was expected to return to England in a few months to a hero’s welcome.
Yet he had a secret, one so explosive that his daughter would do almost anything to protect it. Gavin itched to know what it was.
Would Stokely tell him if he asked? Probably not. He’d refused payment from Prinny for the letters; he would undoubtedly refuse it from someone else. That meant Stokely intended to use them. But how? And why?
“Look, is that the place?” Rosa exclaimed, as the carriage turned off the main road and onto a gravel drive.
Gavin looked out, surprised to find that they’d made good time despite the rain. “Yes, that’s it.”
Christabel peered out the window. “Is it just the rain or is that building actually blue?”
“One of Stokely’s idiot ancestors took a notion to cover the fine old stone in stucco, then paint it that awful color. Stokely wants to restore it, but the damned house is so big, it will cost him a fortune and take forever.” He gave a half smile. “And he’d have to stay at home, instead of flitting from table to table in Bath and York and wherever else there’s good gambling.”
“Another respectable family ravaged by gambling,” Christabel said woefully.
“Actually, although his illustrious ancestors probably turn over in their graves during his parties, Stokely has managed to increase his wealth through his gambling. That’s why he can afford to hold this extravagant event for so many people.”
“There will be a lot of guests?” Christabel asked.
“At least forty, if not more.”
“And Lord Stokely has rooms for them all?” Rosa asked in astonishment. Gavin bit back a smile. “Plenty of rooms, thank God. Otherwise, the wives would be forced to share their husbands’ beds, and that would certainly put a damper on the fun.”
“Byrne!” Christabel exclaimed, a fetching blush staining her cheeks.
“It’s true. And just to prepare you, my sweet, I would advise you not to go looking for someone in their bedchamber unless you’re expected. They’re liable to be in another bedchamber entirely, with someoneGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlelse residing in their own. You will merely embarrass yourself.”
“Thank you for the advice,” she said tartly. “I’ll be careful not to take you by surprise.”
“I didn’t mean myself.” He lowered his voice. “You’re welcome to entermy bedchamber unannounced at any time of the day or night.”
“For pity’s sake, Byrne,” she murmured, jerking her head toward Rosa. But Rosa was smirking, and her smirk only broadened when he added, “You’re welcome to enter my bed unannounced, as well.”
She lifted her eyes heavenward. “Any other lessons in immorality you wish to impart before we arrive?”
“Not at the moment.” He swept his gaze down the beautiful day gown of sprigged muslin she’d chosen to wear, which the rain would render practically transparent.If Stokely’s grooms didn’t come running out with umbrellas. Which, unfortunately, they probably would. “But I’ll be happy to impart some later in the evening.”
When she scowled at him, he chuckled.
They drew up before the house, and grooms hurried to open the doors, regrettably bearing umbrellas. But luck was with Gavin, for the wind blew so hard that the rain was almost horizontal, and they got soaked anyway.
Dripping and sodden, they entered Stokely’s imposing front hall to find the man himself waiting for them, cutting his usual dashing figure in a finely tailored evening dress of blue silk that made his prematurely white hair look almost blond in the candlelight.
“Byrne!” Stokely exclaimed as he came toward them, hand outstretched. “I was beginning to think you would miss dinner.”
“So was I.” Gavin shook his hand, then turned to Christabel, whose dampened gown clung to her lush form like a glove. Ignoring the sudden jump in his pulse, Gavin added, “Stokely, may I present—”
“Ah, but I’ve already met the lovely Lady Haversham.”
Gavin’s blood ran cold. Christabel had lied to him about that? Why? But as Stokely took Christabel’s hand, the confusion on her face made it clear that she was as surprised as Gavin. “I’m afraid I don’t recall—” She broke off, her eyes going wide. “Youwere at Rosevine before Philip died. I remember it now. I only saw you that one time. I came into his study to ask him something, and he was with you.” Her face clouded. “But he didn’t introduce you. I assumed you were…that is—”
“You thought I was one of his creditors. It’s perfectly understandable.” Stokely’s eyes narrowed. “But actually your husband and I were engaged in a…different sort of transaction.”
Damn Stokely to hell. He was testing her to see what she knew. Gavin only prayed that she could brazen it out.
