Printed and bound in the United States of America. I mean, no use going in, my love, is there? George, Lord Trevor, was uneasily aware of a handkerchief, clutched in one thin, gloved hand, and put forward no further objection to entering the house in the wake of the two ladies. No, indeed! I wish I had not come. She was a handsome woman, with a great deal of decision in her face, and a leavening gleam of humour.
|Published (Last):||9 April 2011|
|PDF File Size:||9.65 Mb|
|ePub File Size:||19.63 Mb|
|Price:||Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]|
The Corinthian by Georgette Heyer Someone was climbing out of a second-storey window of one of the prim houses on the opposite side of the street. Sir Richard stood still, and blinked at this unexpected sight. His divine detachment still clung to him; he was interested in what he saw, but by no means concerned with it. His somewhat sleepy gaze discovered that whoever was escaping from the prim house was proposing to do so by means of a knotted sheets, which fell disastrously short of the ground.
By the time he had reached the opposite kerbstone, the mysterious fugitive had arrived, somewhat fortuitously, at the end of his improvised rope, and was dangling precariously above the shallow area, trying with one desperate foot to find some kind of resting-place on the wall of the house.
Sir Richard saw that he was a very slight youth, only a boy, in fact, and went in a leisurely fashion to the rescue. The fugitive caught sight of him as he descended the area-steps, and gasped with a mixture of fright and thankfulness: "Oh! Could you help me, please? He retained it by a miracle, clasping strongly to his chest an unexpectedly light body. Sir Richard was not precisely sober, but although the brandy fumes had produced in his brain a not unpleasant sense of irresponsibility, they had by no means fuddled his intellect.
Sir Richard, his chin tickled by curls, and his arms full of fugitive, made a surprising discovery. And where is my hat? Thank you! I am truly grateful to you! A chuckle, hastily choked, greeted this. And now I think I must be going, if you please. You cannot, my good child, wander about the streets of London at this hour of night, and dressed in those clothes. I believe I ought to ring that bell, and hand you over to your - aunt, did you say? Only tell me the way to Holborn!
I am escaping from the most odious persecution. Let us remove from this neighbourhood. I have seldom seen a street that depressed me more. Do you feel that our agreeable encounter would be improved by an exchange of names, or are you travelling incognita? My real name is Penelope Creed. Who are you? My cousin tries to tie his cravat in a Wyndham Fall. At least, that is what he says it is, but it looks like a muddle to me. My cousin tries to be a dandy, but he has a face like a fish.
They want me to marry him. We had better repair to my house to discuss this matter. Sir Richard sighed. How old are you? Miss Creed worked this out. Let it suffice that I have not the slightest intention of making love to you. You carry your wine very well. My cousin becomes excessively silly. Where are we now? I live in St. Why do they want you to marry your cousin? When he died I had to live with Aunt Almeria.
I was only twelve years old, you see. And now she is persecuting me to marry my cousin Frederick. So I ran away. Why Holborn? Why Bristol? Oh, my God! And say it was your duty? And plague your life out? And cry at you? He is at Harrow, and his clothes fit me perfectly. Is this your house? You need have no fear. A lamp was burning in the hall, and a candle was placed on a marble-topped table, in readiness for Sir Richard. He kindled it by thrusting it into the lamp, and led his guest into the library.
Here there were more candles, in chandeliers fixed to the wall. Sir Richard lit as many of these as seemed good to him, and turned to inspect Miss Creed.
She had taken off her hat, and was standing in the middle of the room, looking interestedly about her. Her hair, which clustered in feathery curls on the top of her head, and was somewhat raggedly cut at the back, was guinea-gold; her eyes were a deep blue, very large and trustful, and apt at any moment to twinkle with merriment. She had a short little nose, slightly freckled, a most decided chin, and a pair of dimples.
Sir Richard, critically observing her, was unimpressed by these charms. He said: "You look the most complete urchin indeed! She raised her candid eyes to his face, and said: "Do I?
Come here! Never mind; sit down, and let us talk this matter over. My recollection is none of the clearest, but I fancy you said you were going into Somerset to marry a friend of your childhood. And you propose to undertake this journey as a passenger on an Accommodation coach? You cannot interfere in my affairs merely because you helped me out of the window. Something tells me I ought to restore you to the bosom of your family.
There was a pause. Sir Richard unfobbed his snuff-box with a flick of one practised finger, and took a pinch. Miss Creed swallowed, and said: "If you had ever seen my cousin, you would understand.
I see now that you are drunk. Either you will travel to Somerset in my company, or you will go back to your aunt. Take your choice! If you went with me, no one would know what had become of you.
List of works by Georgette Heyer
Plot summary[ edit ] Sir Richard Wyndham, an accomplished Corinthian, is being forced into marriage by his family, who want him to have an heir. Depressed by the life laid out before him, he nevertheless agrees to this course. She is a very wealthy orphan who is running away from her own distasteful marriage plans. Brown — At twenty-nine he is extremely wealthy, a leader of the ton , and an accomplished sportsman, living in St. His cravat is tied to his own design — the Wyndham Fall — a style much emulated by his admirers. He has remained unmarried because he is convinced that prospective brides are only interested in his money. In a drunken moment he insists on accompanying Pen Creed to her childhood home.