Read Online A Season of Seduction by Jennifer Haymore - Free Book Online

At least she could be moderately hopeful that Tristan would prevent her brother from eviscerating Jack.
Lady Borrill had told them. She must have recognized Becky and then gone to Tristan and Sophie, who had been at a dinner with Garrett. Heavily pregnant, Kate hadn’t been feeling up to going out tonight and had decided not to attend. But Garrett, Sophie, and Tristan had all gone to dinner in the same carriage. Somehow, Lady Borrill had communicated that Becky was here, involved in something not quite respectable, and of course Garrett had rushed to the scene, dragging along everyone else, without thought of the consequences.
Becky’s brother was heartily indifferent to propriety. If he believed his sister was in danger, he’d charge into the fray without considering the consequences.
Becky swallowed down a choking sob.
Pressing her hand against the stylishly loose blonde knot of hair at her nape, Sophie hurried to the edge of the bed, the coffee-colored skirts of her evening gown swishing and her brow lined with concern. “Oh, Becky.”
Becky knew she didn’t mean to have that tone of censure in her voice. Still, Sophie never failed to make her feel like a naughty child. “Just give me my dress, if you please, Sophie.”
Silently, Sophie handed it over, her lips pursing when she saw the sheer quality of the fabric as it fell over Becky’s breasts. She looked around the room, evidently on the hunt for something for Becky to wear that would more adequately cover her.
Finally, she sighed. “Well, we’ll have to drape the blanket over you before we take you in to see the gentlemen.”
Becky wrapped her arms over her chest, trying to contain her shudders. “No. I’ve no intention of seeing the gentlemen. I’ve had enough of gentlemen tonight.” Across from the bed stood a paneled door, presumably leading to the outside corridor, and she intended to use it. She had no desire to face Tristan or Garrett, and when it came to Jack, her mind was a confused jumble of emotion.
The most pressing thing to do now was prevent Garrett from killing Jack, and while Tristan could be counted on as a temporary measure, the only person in the world who could talk sense into Garrett was his wife. Becky would speak to Kate, and Kate would find a way to prevent a duel.
“What do you mean? Of course you must go—”
“No,” she said. “Please, Sophie, just take me home. I want to see Kate.”
Jack pulled his shirt over his head, and he rubbed the back of his neck as the other two men came into view. Hostile energy buzzed through the elegant sitting room.
The duke stared at him, eyes narrowed, jaw set. A blond behemoth of a man, he had a deep red scar the size of a shilling above his left eyebrow. If Jack hadn’t faced men like this before, he might have been intimidated. But he’d been a sailor for too long. Men like this, while not a common sight in an opulent London hotel, were ordinary enough at sea.
The duke’s cousin, Tristan, Viscount Westcliff stared at him from behind the duke’s shoulder. This man looked far more at home in these surroundings than his counterpart did. He was taller but slighter than the duke. While the duke’s shirt and cravat were rumpled beneath his dinner coat, Westcliff was impeccably dressed in a black satin-lined tailcoat with an immaculate white cravat held at his neck by a gold pin. His hair was dark brown, and his face was long and aristocratic. Just now, that face was expressionless, but there was a telling set to his jaw. Every movement the man made appeared to be calculated for precision, and his intelligent dark eyes seemed to miss nothing.
The Duke of Calton was far more expressive than his cousin. The man wanted to kill him, but something was preventing him. Dispassionately, Jack wondered what held him back.
After a long moment of silence, Jack released a sigh. He was ready for this, and he’d expected it. Ultimately, he loathed that he must manipulate these people—people who, despite