A Gentleman Never Tells (Belmore Square #2) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: Belmore Square Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
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‘Listen to me, Melrose,’ Johnny goes on. ‘My family has been through hell and back to find us back here in Belmore Square working to earn the respect and recognition of society. Taya will marry, and she will marry suitably. I will not have you interfering.’

He is a bloody hypocrite. Since when has Johnny Winters cared for the opinion of the ton? ‘I assume this shift in concern of social opinion is a recent development in your personality?’ I say.

‘Concentrate on doing what you assured Eliza you would do, Melrose. Business.’

I laugh. ‘Just earlier you told me to stop pursuing the highwaymen.’ What else will he demand I do or do not do?

He snarls. ‘I forbid you to so much as look Taya’s way, for if I get sight or sound of her tears again, I will end you. I will withdraw all machinery. Ensure Eliza and your father know you cannot be trusted. Do you hear me?’ He storms out, slamming the door with brute force behind him.

Her tears?

I hear her emerge from behind the drapes. ‘You were crying? When?’

‘They were tears of frustration.’

Tears are tears. And I caused them. God damn me.

The Duke is right. I could destroy everything around me, lose our business, but more important than that, and I would not forgive myself for it, I could hurt Taya. Ruin her prospects.

What have I done?

But it is salvageable. Mama would never breathe a word, I just know it. ‘You should leave,’ I say, going to my desk, doing my damn best not to look at her.

‘I suppose I should,’ she replies in a voice too resolute. ‘Since my brother’s concerns are valid.’

I nod, pick up a quill, dip it in ink, and start writing nothing in particular.

‘Goodbye, Frank,’ she says in a voice that reeks finality, which is undoubtedly a good thing. She has come to realise, as have I, with a little nudge from my friendly brother-in-law, of course, that the flirtations between us should have only ever been that. Harmless fun.

‘Goodbye,’ I say in a strong, aloof tone, further insulting her.

The door closes, and I glance up to an empty room.

It matches my eternally empty heart.

I took a while – five hours, if you require specifics – sitting at my desk gathering myself. When I finally drag my heavy, defeated body up, it is early evening. I have missed breakfast, luncheon, and dinner. It matters not, for my appetite is as low as my mood. I cannot fathom this consistent, aching, irritating pain in my chest.

Back to business, I remind myself, where everything is going to plan. I must see Fleming and share the good news, as well as reassure him that the identity we all so want will soon be revealed, I am sure of it.

Papa is crossing the cobbles when I step out into the low sunshine, and my heart sinks further. ‘Where are you off to?’ I ask as casually as I can muster.

He slows to a stop, and it takes an uncomfortably long time for him to face me. It doesn’t bode well at all.

I inhale and find the courage I need to end this charade, taking the steps down to him while also checking the vicinity for listening ears. I lower my voice. ‘Papa, what were you doing going into Lady Dare’s house?’

Papa smiles. He just smiles, and I am thrown. ‘Oh, Belmore Square,’ he sighs. ‘Nothing can be hidden around here, can it?’

I hope so, I think, as I look at him, confused.

‘Dear boy, I am preparing a story.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, I am writing a story about the ruin of the Duke of Devon who squandered his fortunes on gambling and then swindled the Countess of Cambridge to pay his debts. Lady Dare, I recently discovered, is niece of the countess. That was where I had been the day we were ambushed by the highwaymen.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ I slap a palm on my chest. ‘I thought … Never mind what I thought.’

‘What did you think?’ Mama says, coming down the steps and joining us. ‘That your father was being tied up and whipped in that harlot’s whipping house? Why, that’s my job, Francis.’

I baulk, and Papa laughs.

‘I think I will be going,’ I say over a cough, heading towards the stables.

‘Frank,’ Mama calls, chasing me down.

I know what’s coming. ‘It was a mistake, Mama,’ I assure her. ‘A terrible mistake.’

‘So it will not happen again?’

‘I assure you.’

‘And I am the only person privy to your inappropriate escapades?’

‘You’re the only one who knows it for certain, yes.’

She nods, thinking for a moment. ‘For the best, I’m sure.’

‘Indeed.’

‘She is a sweet girl. I would be most troubled if she was to be hurt.’

‘Of course,’ I say quietly, carrying on my way.

Because I am only capable of pleasuring or hurting.

Not loving.

Chapter 21

I push my way through the door into the dim, smoky club, and order a Scotch, casting my eyes around the space. I don’t see Fleming, but I do see Ruby. I lift my drink in greeting and lower myself to a comfortable chair by the fireplace as she wanders over, her red lips shining in the hazy light, her dark hair off her face this eve. ‘Good evening,’ I say, respectfully keeping my eyes on her face rather than her half-exposed chest.



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