Читать книгу The Unexpected Heiress - Kaitlin O'Riley - Страница 10

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A Man of His Word

Spring, 1895

London

“Hell, you look like something the cat dragged in!”

Phillip Sinclair ignored his younger brother’s more than likely accurate assessment of his current appearance, but he ran his hand across his dark hair in an attempt to smooth it down a bit just the same. He was not proud of how he looked at the moment. With his head pounding relentlessly, he slowly made his way to the sideboard to fill his plate with some much-needed sustenance. A hot breakfast of sausages and eggs would do the trick quite nicely.

“Were you out all night again?” Simon questioned with a slight note of amazement in his voice.

“Does it look like I’ve been home?” Phillip answered sardonically, taking a seat at the long dining room table. He truly was starving. “Coffee would be just the ticket, please,” he said to the liveried footman who hovered nearby. Then he picked up his fork and dug into a fat, juicy sausage.

“You just got home, didn’t you? You’re still wearing the clothes you had on last night.” Simon shook his head in disbelief, his blue eyes tinged with something akin to disapproval. “You could have at least had the decency to change your clothes before Mother happened to see you.”

“Has she left for the bookshop already then?” Phillip managed to ask between ravenous bites.

“Yes,” Simon muttered.

Relief flooded him; Phillip had risked the chance of seeing his mother this morning, but his hunger had won out. He had no desire to spar with his mother again, for his younger brother was right. He hadn’t been home last night.

Usually after staying out all night, Phillip made the effort to change his clothes and wash up to make himself respectable before coming down to join his family for breakfast. Phillip had some standards after all. Besides, he rarely stayed out until after sunrise. Recently, however, his very late nights out seemed to be growing more and more frequent.

And last night . . .

Well, last night had been something else! He barely knew where to start.

It had all begun innocently enough, playing cards with the fellows after Lord Shelley’s ball. Then one thing led to another, and he’d ended up at Lady Katherine Vickers’s townhouse for a very exclusive after-hours party. He had been under the impression that she had ended things between them the week before, but then Katherine made it quite clear that she wanted to be with him last night.

What healthy man could refuse the desires of a beautiful and seductive woman?

Not Phillip Sinclair, the Earl of Waverly!

But now all he wanted to do was eat some breakfast and then retire to the solitude of his bedroom, where he could sleep in peace for at least eight blissful hours before he would rise and get ready for this evening’s adventures, which would surely include another visit with the lusciously tempting Lady Katherine.

“Mother was looking for you, and you’re quite fortunate that you missed her,” Simon remarked. “She would have given you hell for coming to breakfast looking like that, not to mention staying out all night again.”

Phillip avoided his brother’s eyes and the censure he was sure to see there if he looked. It was better to not acknowledge it. His brother had no control over him anyway. Phillip was an adult. Twenty-four years old, almost twenty-five, and he didn’t need his little brother telling him what to do. Phillip could manage his own life and do whatever he pleased, thank you very much.

He was the eldest son and heir of a marquis, after all.

Besides, was staying out all night truly the end of the world? Hardly! None of his friends had gone home at a reasonable hour last night either. However, as he attempted to recall the events of the previous evening, Phillip was not entirely sure of that. He continued shoveling his breakfast into his mouth, barely tasting the food. His head continued to throb with relentless persistency and his stomach roiled. Too much champagne could do that to a man, and he knew better.

Perhaps he had overindulged a little more than usual, but Lady Katherine Vickers had been particularly persuasive last night. The woman loved her champagne; what more could be said?

In any case, as soon as he was through eating his breakfast, he would escape to the quiet and solitude of his bedroom to recover in blessed peace.

“Are you still seeing her?”

His brother’s question sent a twinge of guilt through him. He wasn’t sure why that was. He’d done nothing wrong. Not really. Phillip met Simon’s eyes with a direct gaze.

“Would it be too much for you to let me eat in silence this morning?” he ground out.

Simon gave him an amused smile and leaned back casually in his chair. “Yes, actually it would.”

“Have you nothing better to do today than annoy me?”

Phillip usually wasn’t so short with his younger brother. In fact, they got on quite well together and were closer than most siblings. But this morning, with his head pounding, his patience was gone.

“Not a thing,” Simon murmured with a relaxed air, folding his arms across his chest. “I thought you said you were ending things with the fair widow?”

Phillip gave a careless shrug. “It seems things have changed.”

He didn’t care what anyone said. He enjoyed being with Lady Katherine Vickers. She was different from all the other women he knew. There was something incredibly exciting and intoxicating about her. She possessed a worldly sophistication and seductive glamour that he was powerless to resist.

Most importantly, she made him feel like a man. Probably because she treated him like one.

Unlike anyone else in his family, Phillip thought in disgust. He was tired of everyone telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. Ever since his two Hamilton cousins had married during the past year, it seemed the pressure was now on him to be the next one to head down the aisle and tie the knot.

Phillip simply wasn’t interested in marriage and the responsibility of a wife and family. Not yet anyway. He wished to have some fun before settling down and wanted to be free of obligation for just a little while longer, which didn’t seem an unreasonable request to his way of thinking.

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s very interesting.”

Shoving the last of some buttered toast into his mouth, Phillip pushed away his empty plate and stood up, glancing at Simon as he did so. He’d had quite enough. As he walked from the dining room table, he heard his brother snicker, and it irritated him more than it should have. He didn’t care for Simon acting superior to him, but Phillip was too weary to argue with him.

In spite of his current state of exhaustion, Phillip hustled up the wide staircase of Devon House, his ancestral home. One day this grand and beautiful house and all its expensive and priceless contents would belong to him.

Devon House was a bit of a local landmark at five stories high and almost a city block long. The magnificent, white, Georgian-style building possessed tall Palladian windows on the first floor, which led up to gabled windows on the top floor. The well-designed and classic-looking structure had a curving marble staircase that graced an imposing front entrance with double doors of polished mahogany. The interior of the dignified and elegant home was even more impressive than the exterior.

Yet, Phillip took no notice of any of it as he hurried up the staircase to his bedroom. Being the heir had its benefits, but it also had its burdens. And lately, he seemed to be more burdened by everything in his life than reaping any benefits.

Nothing seemed to appeal to him anymore. None of his usual interests anyway. Lately, the pressure to be the ideal son, to be the exemplary heir, and to meet all the obligations that were required of him was too crushing and all consuming. He was expected to live up to his parents’ perfect marriage and his cousins’ perfect marriages. He was tired of trying to be perfect. He felt boxed in and hemmed in, as if he were a hothouse plant that had no room to grow.

He was trapped in a flawless life that was predestined for him, and no one seemed to understand that he had been given no choice in any of it.

“Ah, there you are, Phillip.”

Phillip froze with his hand on the doorknob of his bedroom door.

He had been so close to a clean escape! This was not going to be pretty. He knew exactly what was going to be said to him, and he did not want to hear it.

With an exasperated sigh, Phillip turned reluctantly to face his father.

Lucien Sinclair, the Marquis of Stancliff, was a tall man who walked with great confidence and authority as he stepped closer to his son. His dark brows drew together in concern, and something else . . . perhaps disappointment?

Glancing away, Phillip avoided his father’s disapproving eyes.

“Phillip.”

“Father.”

Lucien stopped a few feet from him. “You’re just getting home, aren’t you?”

“I just finished having breakfast.” Phillip evaded the question. “I’m going to rest for a bit. I have a crushing headache this morning.”

His father’s voice hardened. “Yes, I should imagine you would have a nasty headache. One usually accompanies a hangover.”

There was a weighted pause.

Phillip remained silent, for there was nothing else to say. He hadn’t the energy to deny the truth. With his fingers itching to turn the doorknob, he stood still. He was mere inches to being in the comfort of his luxurious bed. His entire body ached and throbbed with the need to lie down and hide from the world.

“I thought I made it perfectly clear last week, and the week before that, how I felt about your behavior of late and of the questionable company you’ve been keeping.” The tone of his father’s voice was ominous.

“Yes, sir. I recall our conversations.”

How could Phillip not? He hated disappointing his father and had felt like a miscreant schoolboy those evenings in his study. Was the last time only a week ago? Or longer? He seemed to have lost track of time.

At some point in the not too distant past, he had promised his father that he would curb his wilder ways. That he would drink less. Gamble less. He had vowed that he’d stop cavorting with Lady Katherine Vickers. He had meant to keep all those promises too. Truly he had. He knew his father disapproved of how Phillip had been conducting himself, and Phillip had meant to change things for the better.

He knew he was behaving shamelessly lately, yet he didn’t know why he couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing so.

Phillip had had every intention of coming home at a respectable hour last night. But then one glass of champagne had led to another and another, and he was having such a wonderful time. And he had been winning the game of faro he’d been playing.

Then there had been Lady Katherine . . .

She had worn the most daring red velvet gown he’d ever seen. Even for a woman out of mourning for her dead husband, it was quite scandalous. But that was part of Katherine’s allure. The seductive combination of her daring, carefree, and wanton behavior and her lush figure, ample bosom, and silky blond hair seemed to light an unquenchable fire in him, and only she could douse the flames she had set.

He had tried to end things with her once, but he simply couldn’t. Katherine’s mercurial moods made it too difficult. She was constantly pushing him away and pulling him back. He had believed she didn’t want him any longer, and then, God help him, last night!

Last night she had clearly made her desire for him known. She’d whispered the wickedest words in his ear while he sat at the gaming table. Last night, he would have followed her into the pits of hell if she had asked him to. Instead, he just followed her into her bedroom . . .

“Phillip? Did you hear what I just said?”

Phillip shook himself from his delicious recollections of being in Katherine’s bed and tried to focus his bleary eyes on his father.

“Yes, sir, I heard you.”

“I am serious about what I said to you. I shall cut off all your funds if I see you in this condition again. You will not get even another shilling.”

Surely his father was jesting? He wouldn’t really cut him off financially, just for having a little illicit fun? But one look at his father’s expression told Phillip otherwise.

“You’re past the age of youthful hijinks, Phillip. We’ve let this behavior go on far too long, and there’s no excuse for it. Your mother and I have been quite concerned about you for the last six months or so. And you’re more than fortunate that your mother didn’t see you in your current state. She’d be heartbroken. We’ve talked about this before. And you promised us you would show some self-control. You should be settling down, taking more than just a passing interest in the estate which will one day belong to you, perhaps even taking a wife.” He sighed heavily, almost wearily. “But you need to do something more productive with your days than sleeping off the liquor from the night before.”

Staring mutely at his father, Phillip had nothing to say.

His head was pounding so hard he could barely see straight. Exhausted beyond reason, he closed his eyes for one blessed second. It felt heavenly. Without meaning to, he slouched against the doorframe.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Go to bed, Phillip,” his father muttered with undisguised disgust. “This conversation is over. For now.”

Feeling like the lowest of the low, Phillip pried his eyes open and saw his father taking long strides down the corridor away from him.

He then forced himself to move, opening the door to his bedroom at last. Without waiting for his valet, he shrugged out of his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed among the down pillows on his wide, four-poster bed.

The last thing Phillip recalled before falling into a dreamless sleep was thinking that, yes, he would change. He was quite sorry for how he had been behaving. He would make his parents proud of him again. Soon. He’d change soon enough.

He would do all that he was supposed to do to be the perfect son . . . when he wasn’t so damned tired.