Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,14

experience for a child!”

St. Ryne studied her closely. He was amazed to discover her quite sincere. “Perhaps,” he allowed slowly. “I really can’t recall,” he admitted. “What I do recall is the lesson in obedience it engendered.”

Freddy gave a snort of laughter. “Aye! I can, too!”

The Viscount raised a quelling eyebrow at his friend. “That will be enough, Freddy.”

His friend glanced down at his boots, stifling an urge to laugh. He was one of a select few who knew the truly scapegrace background of the elegant Viscount St. Ryne, a background seemingly at odds with his ton persona.

Lady Romella Wisgart sniffed audibly. “Well, I should hope it was compensatory with the crime,” she announced stentorianly.

“Quite,” St. Ryne agreed shortly, bowing his head in her direction. He turned toward Lord Monweithe. “But come, sir, let us retire to your library, if we may, and leave these two to have a nice stroll through the park. I have a request to make which we should discuss.”

“Not without a chaperone!”

“Naturally, sir,” St. Ryne returned, feigning surprise.

“I’m sure Freddy expects Lady Wisgart’s company as well.”

Freddy threw a surprised look at St. Ryne but recovered quickly. He discerned what St. Ryne desired was his cooperation in removing Lady Helene and Lady Wisgart. So much for spiriting his beauty away! “Uh-h, quite so!” he said, darting sideways glances at the Viscount. He bore a lively curiosity as to his friend’s sudden interest in Old Monweithe and determined to have it out with him before long for dealing him such a backhanded turn.

“Lady Wisgart,” he said rising elegantly and making a leg, “may we have the pleasure of your company? It is such a clear crisp day, not in the least bit damp,” he said engagingly.

“A short one, mayhap,” she said in a condescending tone. “I have heard mild exercise in such weather is invigorating for the constitution. Still, we must dress warmly. Come, Helene.”

St. Ryne bowed as they left before turning again to the Earl. “Your library, sir,” he reminded, gesturing before him.

Lord Monweithe frowned a moment; he did not like the idea of Helene going out with Shiperton. No sense building any expectations among the young bucks who squired his youngest daughter. St. Ryne put him in an awkward position. He was curious to know his request and to deny the outing now would be boorish. He saw St. Ryne regarding him with that lazy, sleepy-eyed smile of his. Damn, if he didn’t think St. Ryne had arranged the entire situation, but he couldn’t say no now.

“Certainly, this way,” he said leading him toward the door. There he paused for a moment to turn back to Freddy Shiperton. “Don’t be gone too long,” he admonished.

“Just a little jaunt, sir, and thank you, sir!” Freddy managed to stumble out.

The Earl of Rasthough only frowned again and followed his distinguished guest out of the room.

“You don’t approve of our Freddy,” St. Ryne observed as they crossed the hall to the library.

“Don’t approve or disapprove. No sense filling their heads with fancies. I’ve said it before and I say it now, my eldest daughter is to be married first.”

“Precisely.”

Monweithe looked at St. Ryne sideways, not understanding what he meant, and then continued, “Daresay people think I’m crazy, but my mind’s made up. Love that little gal but I guess I say I got my duty.”

St. Ryne nodded as the Earl ushered him into his library.

“You are to be commended, sir.”

“I am? Well, I only do as I feel right,” Lord Monweithe said gruffly, lowering his bulk into the leather chair behind his desk. “But sit down, sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s quite simple,” St. Ryne remarked, crossing his legs and leaning back into the green plush chair before the desk. “I want to marry your daughter,” he explained, watching his host closely.

“What?!?” that gentleman exclaimed, rising from his chair and leaning across the cluttered desk, his face turning dangerously red. “I just told you Elizabeth is to be married first. Don’t think just because you stand to become an Earl that you’re going to be any different from any other gentleman who’s courting Helene, because I tell you now it ain’t going to be so! Asides which, you’ve never called or spoken to her before today.”

St. Ryne’s face froze and he regarded the Earl of Rasthough coldly.

“Have you so little love or respect for your eldest daughter that you must assume any gentleman soliciting your daughter’s hand in marriage means Helene?”

“But, but— What are