Caprice: The Masqueraders Series - Book One by Laura Parker Page A

modern young lady knows what it means when a man is inebriated.”
    “They didn’t know what it meant when I was last in London,” he countered.
    “Oh, but that was years and years ago.”
    “Four,” Hadrian grumbled, beginning to feel as ancient as Methuselah. “Henceforth, I forbid you to know what it means.”
    Jane’s dark brows, elegant imitations of her brother’s, rose halfway up her smooth young brow in exception to his tone. “Mama said you might be difficult at first, and that we were to indulge you until you felt more the thing. Therefore, I shall obey you.”
    “Thank you.” Hadrian looked at his sister and wondered what lay ahead for him. The family had been warned to “indulge” him until he felt more himself. At the moment, he wondered if he would ever again feel like himself, or even if he knew what constituted feeling “himself.”
    “Another thing, sis. You are not to again wear a morning gown that reveals quite so much of your—ah—shoulders.”
    “Mama doesn’t disapprove,” Jane rejoined, her spine straightening in challenge.
    “Mama’s sight must be failing. Since mine is quite sharp, my girl, we will rely on it in future.” He saw in her bright eyes the mutinous look that had once made her the terror of the Blackburne nursery, but he also saw her bring it under instant control when he bent his own considerable stare on her.
    At that moment two feminine heads poked through the doorway. “Hadrian!” both girls cried together.
    “Come in, children. Come in.” Hadrian held out his arms to enfold the redheaded, sixteen-year-old Saxona and blond fourteen-year-old Thordis, who both flew instantly to his side.
    Not one to be left out, Jane once again embraced her brother about the waist. “I am so glad you’re home,” she declared with heartfelt emotion. “You will have us all sorted out in a trice. Mama says so.”
    Hadrian cast his eyes heavenward and hoped that in this matter, at least, his mother had received divine wisdom. The yoke of his life was settling quickly onto his shoulders. Within days he would pick up the trappings of his old life: presiding over the dinner table, sitting for interminable hours in the House of Lords, and being pressed into attending balls, card parties, and soirees. At the moment he couldn’t help feeling a renewed fondness for burning desert sand and disgruntled camels.
    “Shelby Tibbitts, Esq.,” Emory finished.
    “A commoner? Who’s his benefactor?” Hadrian inquired.
    “If you mean who vouches for him at the various clubs, then several of us do.”
    The dinner hour was long past and the Blackburne brothers were deep into the manly tradition of remaining at table to drink their port and smoke. Hadrian expelled a perfect smoke ring into the air. “Why do you allow that sort of man to gamble with you?”
    Emory was leaning back in his chair, both arms stretched out comfortably along the upholstered arms. “For sport, of course. Can’t have it said a commoner is sharper with the cards than a peer of the realm, what?”
    Hadrian finished his port. He told himself his recent experiences with the ways of the world had made him too suspicious. Yet he could not shake the suspicion that all was not aboveboard when his brother owed an interloper four thousand pounds. He stood up. “Indulge me in a game of cards, Emory.”
    Emory raised his head carefully, more foxed than he wished his brother to realize. “Here? Now?”
    “In the library, if you will. And quickly, before Maman and the girls know what we’re about.”
    Half an hour later, Hadrian could no longer harbor any illusions about his brother’s gullibility. Within the space of five hands, he had managed to slip in four different cheats, and not one of them had caught his sibling’s eye.
    Disgusted and embarrassed by his brother’s ineptitude, Hadrian finally slammed his hands on the tabletop, scattering the hand-painted deck. “The point of gambling, brother, is to win