Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers
Sir John reflected with a grim kind of amusement that this was certainly the first time anyone could have accused him of running away from a battlefield. But under the circumstances, and in view of his decided partiality, there could be no question that in this case at least discretion was most definitely the better part of valor.
“Oh, and Velu…” Settled before his desk with the open French doors bringing in the night-smells of dew-wet grass and frangipani and jasmine, Sir John held up one hand to halt his servant. “If by some chance you might have reason to visit the drawing room—perhaps to ask if the ladies need anything before they retire—you might just say a few words to Miss Alexa in your tongue, perhaps a mumbled undertone. You’re good at that when you imagine you’ve something to grumble about, eh? Tell her…The devil take it! Just make sure she’s not about to lose her temper and start throwing things, you hear? You might move my Ming vases out of there. That ought to give her a hint. Tell her those were my orders and she’ll understand very well what I meant. That’s all. And since I might go outside for a stroll later on, I don’t want you sitting up for half the night either. That clear? You’re getting to be an old man too. Hah!”
Poor faithful old Velu! He’d be getting a pension, of course, and enough money to buy himself that land in Jaffna he’d always wanted, as well as a young wife to give him children before it was too late. Too late…You spent your time and energy accumulating money and possessions and forgot why you were doing so in the process, until suddenly it was too late to enjoy their use and you saw them for what they were—more clutter and things to leave behind when you had to go.
No, dammit! Sir John slammed down the glass he had been holding and began to pace about the large, shelf-lined room as he usually did when he was deep in thought. Dammit, he thought again, I haven’t gone yet! Still got some time left to me if all those doctor chaps were right and if I don’t overdo things. Time enough, perhaps to make sure it wasn’t all for nothing after all, not just wasted! Made use of—enjoyed. That’s what money was for, and possessions. And why the deuce should the Crown get any of it, anyhow?
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