His at night by Sherry thomas EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Sherry thomas
- Language: English
- Genre: Literary Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
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The Marquess of Vere was a man of few words.
This fact, however, would astonish all but a select few of
his numerous friends and acquaintances. The general
consensus was that Lord Vere talked. And talked. And talked.
There was no subject under the sun, however remote or
abstruse, upon which he did not eagerly venture an opinion or
ten. Indeed, there were times when one could not stop him
from pontificating on that newly discovered class of chemical
substance known as the Pre-Raphaelites, or the curious
culinary habits of the Pygmy tribes of central Sweden.
Lord Vere was also a man who held his secrets close.
But anyone so deluded as to voice such a pronouncement
would find himself surrounded by ladies and gentlemen on the
floor, screaming in laughter. For Lord Vere, according to
public opinion, could not distinguish a secret from a hedgehog.
Not only was he garrulous, he volunteered the most intimate,
most inappropriate personal knowledge at the drop of a hat—
or even without a stitch of haberdashery anywhere in sight.
He gladly related his difficulties with the courting of
young ladies: He was rejected early and rejected often, despite
his stature as a peer of the realm. He gave up without
hesitation the state of his finances—though it had been
discovered that he was quite without a notion as to how much
funds were at his disposal, current and future, thereby
rendering his conjectures largely moot. He even ventured—not
in mixed company, of course—to comment on the size and
girth of his masculine endowment: enviable on both counts,
the measurements verified by the experiences of the merry
widows who looked to him for an occasional tumble in the
sheets.
Lord Vere was, in other words, an idiot. Not a raving one,
for his sanity was rarely questioned. And not so moronic that
he could not see to his daily needs. Rather, he was an amusing
idiot, as ignorant and puffed up as a pillow, silly to the
extreme, but sweet, harmless, and very well liked among the
Upper Ten Thousand for the diversion he provided—and for
his inability to remember anything told him that did not affect
his meals, his nightly beauty rest, or the pride and joy that
resided in his underlinens.
He could not shoot straight; his bullets never met a grouse
except by accident. He rarely failed to turn knobs and levers in
the wrong direction. And as his gift for wandering into the
wrong place at the wrong time was legendary, hardly anyone
batted an eyelash to learn that he was an eyewitness to a crime
—without having any idea what he’d seen, most assuredly.
Such an extraordinary idiot had he been in the thirteen
years since his unfortunate riding accident that no one not
privy to his more clandestine activities had ever remarked on
his proximity to some of the most sensational criminal cases of
the upper crust, shortly before those cases were solved and the
culprits brought to justice.
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