For the Love of a Soldier by Victoria Morgan Page B

irritably swiped it across his sweat-drenched brow.
    Garrett pursed his lips. The man should be bedridden, rather than delivering lectures that Garrett had long outgrown. He really was a brazen ass. Pity that he was his half sister’s father. However, if arrogance killed the man, it would save Garrett the trouble—and Kit’s anger. He shook his head. “No.”
    “No, you’re not manufacturing ale, or no, you’re not venturing into trade?”
    “No and yes.”
    “For God’s sake, man, give me a straight answer. You are a peer of the realm. You cannot venture into trade and be accepted at court. More important, you cannot tarnish the Kendall name and title with whatever sordid business machinations you are dredging up when deep in your cups.”
    Garrett clenched his teeth but bit off his rebuttal.
    Arthur rose and began to pace the room, gesturing with his hand. “Kendall Ale,” he sneered. “It’s scandalous! Particularly as your presence here to discuss a ‘delicate matter’ with Warren, as Poole phrased it, tells me that you’re dragging him down with you. Well, I won’t have you bringing a stain to the whole family. Think of your nephews. You could lose everything. Think of Beau and Will.”
    “Maybe I am. Should I make a success of it, I’ll give the profits to Will.” He shrugged. “Seems only fair, as Beau inherits Warren’s title, Will as the spare heir might need the income.”
    Arthur’s eyes nearly bulged from his head, and his mouth opened and closed before he could put voice to his anger. “Stop being an ass and answer me straight, man!”
    Garrett straightened to his full height and peered down at his stepfather, his words cold. “You forget yourself. I no longer answer to any man but myself.”
    “That’s right, and how has that been going? Holing yourself up in one of your country estates, drinking yourself into a stupor, entertaining who knows how many lightskirts and doing God knows—”
    “You go too far.” Garrett’s voice did not raise, but the arctic dip to it gave Arthur pause. “I suggest you stop, as Poole wouldn’t like your blood soiling the Oriental.”
    Arthur clamped his mouth shut, his cheeks vibrating with the force of it. He studied Garrett and then sighed. “I waste my time speaking to you. I came to see Warren. You don’t perchance know when he is due to return?”
    Garrett crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No.”
    Arthur nodded, and refolding his now balled-up handkerchief, he returned it to his jacket pocket and crossed to the door. “I will return another day.”
    “You do that. My current
lightskirt
and I will be gone, so you can harangue Warren in peace.” He couldn’t resist goading Arthur. It provided the only pleasure in his relationship with the man.
    Arthur paused. After a beat, Garrett heard him mutter under his breath. “You’ll never change. God help us.”
    Garrett had no doubt Arthur meant for him to hear the indictment, for his stepfather always liked to deliver the parting salvo. For once, Garrett agreed with him, sharing the opinion in regard to his stepfather. Once a bastard, always a bastard.
    Garrett waited until the front door closed before leaving the drawing room. With his stepfather’s departure, the tension coiling through him loosened, and he quickened his pace to escape up the back staircase before Poole could waylay him. He’d had enough lectures for the day.
    He dismissed Arthur as he had learned to do throughout the years. He had also spoken the truth about his imminent departure, or rather the partial truth. He didn’t have a mistress waiting, but he and Miss Daniels were leaving.
    Garrett’s lips curved as he pictured her reaction to hiscalling her his current lightskirt.
I won’t be your mistress
. She’d probably take up the sword Arthur had just laid down and skewer Garrett through. He didn’t understand why the thought improved his mood, lightened his steps, and made him smile, but it