The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) Read Online Free

trappings of respectable family life. Lady Harpenden and Lady Drummond wished to parade these in front of their acquaintance. See what a fine man our nephew must be to have secured himself such a wife. That was to be their message to the world. Since his aunts held the purse strings, Clive was forced to dance to their tune.
    And I must do as I am bid. As always…
    Rosie had been able to avoid London in the first year of her marriage because of her pregnancy and the fact that she was in mourning for her father. In the second year, she had steadfastly remained at Lady Drummond’s Suffolk country house. She felt no loyalty to Clive, but his aunts were different. Lady Drummond, in particular, had been kind to her, and they did not deserve to have their proud name dragged through the mire of scandal and speculation. Even though Clive had coerced her into this visit to London by his usual means, she would do what she could to uphold his reputation for their sakes. Despite the fact that she sensed they were all fighting a losing battle.
    It seemed that her stay in London was to consist of an endless round of balls, soirées and routs. Xander was old enough not to need her every minute, and it was unfashionable to cling too closely to her child. Those were Lady Drummond’s views on the matter. They did not quite match Rosie’s, but she was forced to concede that she could not spend every minute with her son, no matter how much she might wish to do so. Tonight would mark the beginning of the social merry-go-round.
    Rosie tiptoed into Xander’s room and stood over his cot, studying his sleeping form for long moments. His long lashes fanned his cheeks, and his deep, regular breathing soothed Rosie’s restless thoughts. She thought of the swans on the lake at Delacourt Grange, and the way they glided smoothly across the water with scarcely a ripple. Yet, all the while, their feet were paddling wildly just below the surface. I am like one of those swans , she thought. Although my emotions are raging beneath the surface, I surprise even myself by continuing in an outwardly calm and serene manner. It was only her younger brother, Harry, who ever questioned her unnatural tranquillity and regarded her now and then with concern. He must never know—no-one must ever know—that it was only by maintaining this cool, collected and unfamiliar persona that she could function. She lived in fear that if ever she let the mask slip, she would tumble headlong into a bottomless pit of anguish.
    Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to the plump softness of Xander’s cheek. For him and for Harry , she reminded herself. Nothing else matters .
    Violet, Xander’s devoted nurse, entered the room. She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Don’t fret, my lady. You know he’ll be safe with me.”
    “I do know it, Violet, and it is my greatest comfort.”
    Returning to her bedchamber, Rosie gathered up her ruched velvet cloak. Before she could depart to join Lady Drummond and Clive, Harry and his faithful retriever, Beau, wandered into the room. They both studied her thoughtfully.
    “Lord, Rosie, I did not know you could look half so good.”
    “Flatterer!” She twirled, then curtseyed to him. With Harry she could be herself. She could even laugh now and then. “Did you want to talk to me, love?”
    “Merely to bring you some letters.” He held two sealed parchments out to her. “They have both been forwarded from Lady Drummond’s country house. This one is in Cousin Martha’s writing. It appears to have travelled around the country since she first sent it from Scotland several weeks ago, having been forwarded first from Delacourt Grange. The second is from Tom Drury.”
    “Do leave them on my dressing table, Harry, so that I may read them in the morning. I must dash because it will not do for me to make Lady Drummond late for her friend’s party.”
    She kissed his cheek, and from habit, Harry scrubbed where her lips had touched him with the back of his