Page 2 of A Bonny Pretender
He obliged and inwardly chuckled at the hesitation in the old man when Frank straightened to his full height. He was now as tall as his father and would soon overtake him. Probably the only thing he had in common with this man was the blood running through their veins. Frank had inherited his mother’s fair hair and complexion. According to her, he would be tall and lanky like his grandfather. Even fate knew better than to create another vicious viscount.
“Father, I did my best to complete the assignment. Please don’t take it as an assault against you or your beliefs.” His mother’s eyes were bright with panic; he’d try to defuse his father’s anger. “Next time, I’ll take the side that reflects your opinions.”
“An assault onmybeliefs?” Raines hissed. “We are of noble blood. Our family name has been respected since the Tudors claimed the throne.Myopinion will beyouropinion. You will not besmirch our reputation with radical views.”
Frank was surprised by the fury trembling within him. The older he got, the harder it was to contain his temper.
“Do. You. Understand?” Raines prodded a finger into Frank’s chest with each word.
“My lord,” intervened his mother, “the boy—”
“Shut your mouth, you insipid, Friday-faced chit.” His venom spat across the table. “I’ve had to endure a frigid wife who could give me but one babe. At least it was a male, though I question how much of a man he’ll turn out to be.”
Something inside Frank snapped. He pulled back fist and smashed it into his father’s face. The viscount stumbled backward, then fell to the floor with a curse. He lay stunned on the Axminster carpet, a red stain slowly seeping from his nose to the expensive silk of his pristine white cravat. A malevolent smile curled his lip.
“Perhaps there’s a man inside there after all,” Lord Raines said with a grunt.
“Oh, my lord, let me help you,” cried Lady Raines, rushing to his side.
He waved her away and glared up at his son. “You’ll pay for this, boy.”
“I’ve been paying since the day I was born.” Frank recognized the fear in his father’s eyes.Good, he thought, then turned on his heel and left the dining room.
His heart raced, the pulse drumming in his throat. What had he done? What price would he and his mother pay? He rubbed the knuckles on his right hand. It had been worth it. A moment he would never forget. The viscount would fire the tutor. The one person, besides his mother, who had always been supportive and encouraging in Frank’s short life.
Later that night, his mother tapped softly at his door. He tightened the belt of his banyan and bade her enter. There were shadows beneath her eyes, but she wore a bright smile.
“I’m surprised you can look so happy after your son planted a facer on your husband.” He sprawled across a leather chair in front of the fireplace. When he looked up again, he saw the tears sparkling in her eyes. “I’m sorry if you’ve suffered from my actions, but I don’t regret it.”
“Nor do I,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “You’re going to Eton. You will leave next week.”
“Eton? I’m being sent off to school?” Incredible. His father had insisted a tutor would be better until he was old enough to attend Oxford. His pulse raced. This had to be a cruel trick to fill him with hope and snatch it away, his father’s favorite form of retribution.
She nodded. “I convinced him that you need to learn how to be a gentleman, as he did, by formal schooling. It wasn’t your fault, what happened today, only a lack of education.”
Freedom. Sweet freedom. He leaped from the chair with a loud howl and hugged his mother close. She was a petite woman, only coming to his chest, but there was strength in her returned embrace.
“I will miss you,” she mumbled into his robe, “but it’s for the best. It’s the only way I can protect you.”
*
May 1811
Eton Boys’ School
Windsor, England
“He’s gone.” Shesmiled, then remembered herself and studied her soft leather shoes. “A fever finally took him last week. I thought I’d tell you in person rather than a letter.”
Frank stared at his mother. His father was dead. And his mother had never looked so alive. Her once-pale skin glowed with health, her eyes bright, and her tone was light. He understood the feeling, had experienced it himself when he came here to Eton. Freedom was a giddy sensation.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded and sat down, grasping his hand to pull him down beside her. “You are now the viscount, Lord Raines. There’s much for you to learn, but you must still attend Oxford, of course. Or Cambridge. It’s up to you, now. You can make your own choices.”
The excitement in her voice was unmistakable. She put into words the thoughts revolving in both their heads.
“Our lives have finally begun.”
