The Tyrant by Patricia Veryan Page B

you been? I’d think you could manage to be here to welcome my prospective bride and her family!”
    Phoebe looked curiously at the young man who strode to meet him. She was as agreeably surprised in him as she had been in his mama. As fair as Meredith was dark, Jeffery was a little taller and of slighter frame. His features were more finely chiselled, and about him clung an air of careless impudence far removed from his brother’s stern manner. Phoebe already knew he was eight years the younger, but she would never have supposed them to be brothers; in fact, the only resemblance she could find was that Jeffery’s handsome head was as innocent of powder or wig as was Meredith’s.
    â€œI do apologize, Merry,” he said in a pleasant, repentant voice. “’Fraid the time eluded me. I know you’ll not approve, but truth to tell, I was sallying to the rescue of one sore-afflicted, who—”
    Meredith’s hands dropped. He said in a near snarl, “ Rescue, is it? By God, Jeff, if you’ve allowed yourself to become involved with some damnable Jacobite…!”
    Phoebe’s eyes widened.
    â€œOh, for Lord’s sake,” exclaimed Jeffery. “As if I would do such a bog-brained thing! You know how I feel about their idiotic Cause! No, a far more pleasant rescue. I chanced upon the sweetest little creature, trying to climb down a tree whilst carrying a baby bird she had seen fall from its nest.”
    â€œWhereupon you played the knight-errant, eh?”
    â€œDid you fancy I’d neglect so fine an opportunity? A luscious morsel, Merry. I’ve not seen her since I went off to Cambridge, and—”
    â€œYou amaze me, brother, considering you’re more often out of that seat of learning than in it! Who is this ‘luscious morsel’? Do I know the chit?”
    â€œ Assurement! She has changed in so delightful a way— many ways, in fact—that I did not recognize her. And not until old Lockwood came galumphing up, complaining we were on his lands—”
    â€œWere you? Dammit! You know I’m already at odds with the old curmudgeon!”
    â€œWell, I suppose we were. But Rosalie managed to charm him out of his bad humour.”
    Meredith said thunderously, “ Rosalie? Do you refer to Rosalie Smith?”
    â€œYes. And do not come the ugly, aged mentor. You’ve had an eye in that direction yourself, from all I hear!”
    â€œShe is one of my village people, and I’ll not have her pestered!”
    â€œShe don’t talk like a villager. Nor behave like one. And as for her being pestered—have you exclusive pestering rights, perchance?” Jeffery’s amiable demeanour had undergone a subtle change; he was standing very straight, resentment in every line of him.
    Meredith seized his arm. In a voice harsh with anger, he ground out, “My relationship with Rosalie need not concern you, bantling! Suffice it to say that if you annoy her, you’ll answer to me!”
    Jeffery wrenched free. “’Tis my understanding you’ve brought your future bride here. Do not be a hog, Merry!” He grinned, in a sudden disarming shift of mood. “No, really, old fellow, I am most enthralled by this bombshell you’ve hurled. To think that ’neath that formidable exterior lurks a yearning heart!”
    â€œYearning, is it? Say rather that I yielded to Mama’s importunities.”
    â€œOh, Gad! Your affianced is a dragon, with tombstone teeth, a squint, and a figure like a blob!”
    â€œOh!” gasped Phoebe.
    Meredith drawled with a grin, “But of course. Did you fancy I would offer for a beauty?”
    â€œI cannot feature you offering at all. I thought you irretrievably shackle-shy. How did you manage it, old lad? Were you the gallant, dropping to one knee to plead your suit? Did she yield her lips with a tremulous sigh, or—”
    â€œScatter wit! As I recall, she