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

hand. Laughing, Rosie placed a hand either side of his face and held him still so that she could kiss him again before she descended the stairs to join her hostess.
    * * *
    “Devil take it, Perry. I look like a painted puppet that has been discarded by a travelling fair.”
    Sir Perry DeVere, that well-known authority on fashionable attire, lounged gracefully in a chair, observing his friend’s expression with amused interest. Jack was clad in snow-white breeches and a beautifully embroidered, flowered waistcoat. A profusion of lace frothed at his throat and wrists, while diamonds glinted in his ruffles and on his shapely fingers. His dark-blond hair was hidden beneath heavy powder, and he had permitted Perry to sparingly apply paint and patches to his face.
    “Forsooth, these protests are uncalled for. ’Tis the merest trace of hare’s-foot powder. Indeed, one would be hard pushed to notice it. You must learn to suffer in order to be modish, old chap.” Perry, himself exquisitely clad in lilac satin with silver lace trim, had initially displayed alarm at Jack’s unfashionable tendencies. Over the last few days, he had developed immunity, and he had now reached a point where he was able to tolerate it.
    Jack grimaced as he shrugged into a heavily brocaded coat of deep-blue velvet. “If that is the case, I would much rather remain un-modish.” He regarded his shoes, the high heels of which were studded liberally with paste jewels, with extreme dislike.
    Since this was not a new topic of conversation between the two men, Perry waved the protest aside with a languid hand. “You are determined to be obstinate. I, on the other hand, will debate no more on the matter. You have spent too long as Jacobite rebel and desperate outlaw to appreciate the importance of gentlemanly apparel. I see my role henceforth must be to educate you.”
    Upon his arrival in London, Jack’s first act had been to seek out his friend. Perry had greeted him with delight and a resolve to reintroduce him into society. Jack had scuppered these plans by declaring his intention of eschewing polite company.
    His explanation had been simple. “I have no desire to be subjected to constant questions and exclamations.”
    While understandably shocked at such wild suggestions on Jack’s part as nonattendance at balls, soirées and the obligatory morning visits that were so much a part of town life, Perry had been content to join him on a hell-raising spree of epic proportions. London was the place to yield to a bout of damn-it-all recklessness, and Sir Perry DeVere was not the man to turn up his nose at the opportunity to indulge in a little mayhem.
    Together the two men had revelled in the many excesses available to gentlemen in possession of youth, wealth and daring. Most of these had involved copious amounts of alcohol and increasingly wild wagers in which life and limb were subjected to alarming risk. Before long, Perry had ventured to ask Jack if he was, as it appeared, hell-bent on seeking oblivion. When Jack confessed that he was indeed determined to pursue that very goal, his friend had gradually, and with several setbacks along the way, steered him down a less ruinous path. Tonight marked a breakthrough. Jack had finally agreed to show his face at a fashionable party. He was to make his first public appearance in London at the Duchess of Rotherham’s ball.
    Perry bowed low as he handed over Jack’s gold-trimmed tricorn hat and jewelled snuffbox. His eyes were sympathetic as they scanned Jack’s face. “When a man is walking an emotional tightrope, the fact that he is forced to mince along it in high heels and fashionable attire does not make it any easier.”
    “Good God, Perry, I had no idea you were a philosopher beneath all that finery.” Jack accompanied his friend out to the waiting carriage.
    “I would like to meet the lady.” Perry settled his long frame into the carriage seat and gave the order to his coachman to be off.
    “Which