Read Online An Heir of Uncertainty by Alyssa Everett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alyssa Everett
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repaired the front door to your satisfaction,” Win said to both ladies. “And of course so that my brother could make your acquaintance.” He added in a low voice to Miss Douglass, “I hope you’ll excuse Freddie’s manners. He can be a bit eccentric on occasion.”
She gave Win a bright smile. “Oh, no, there’s nothing to excuse. I find his manners charming.”
She seemed in a perpetually sunny mood, despite the faint purplish circles under her eyes. She was so slender Win suspected he could span her waist with his hands. Then again, he might say the same for her sister, who certainly showed no sign yet of her condition.
Lady Radbourne resumed her place on the sofa. “Do sit down, please, gentlemen. The door is once again in good repair, as you no doubt observed when you arrived.”
Win took the chair she’d indicated, balancing his hat on his knee. Gad, but she was pretty. With a will of their own, Win’s eyes slid from her proud, lovely face to the neckline of her gown, where the pale curves of her breasts, high and firm, showed through the sheer silk net of her black fichu. A brief but undeniable stir of lust ran through him.
Now that was admirable of him, lusting after Lady Radbourne when she was expecting another man’s baby. Then again, Harriet had been at her most alluring when she’d been carrying his child, her body even more womanly than usual. Unless he was much mistaken, she’d wanted him more then too. He’d never been so surprised in his life as the night four or five months before Julia was born when he’d awakened to find Harriet straddling him in bed, slick with need, literally begging him to take her. He still grew aroused, sometimes, just thinking about it...
Which was why he shouldn’t be thinking about it, not now, sitting here with a widow and her maiden sister, no matter how lovely the widow or how colorful the gossip about her. “How are you feeling this morning, Lady Radbourne? When I last saw you, you were a trifle under the weather.”
It was a polite enough question—personal, perhaps, but certainly friendly—yet she looked even more wary than before. “I’m quite well, thank you. As you suggested, I made sure to eat a few biscuits before getting out of bed this morning. And I ate breakfast too.” She gave him an oddly measuring look. “Tea and toast.”
Win wondered at the reason for the look. Puzzled, he replied, “I’m glad to hear it. Sometimes a simple meal can work wonders. I know it often made the difference between gloom and good cheer when I was in Spain.”
Miss Douglass had joined her sister on the sofa, but at this she inclined his way with bright-eyed interest. “So you were in the war. For how long?”
“Eight years in the Light Division, from 1806 to 1814.”
“And you escaped without a scratch...”
“I wouldn’t say that. I took a jab from a French bayonet at Nivelle, and I’ve a fine scar to show for it. But I was more fortunate than most.”
“I can’t think why you call it a fine scar,” Freddie broke in. “It’s not an interesting shape, or even particularly colorful.” Directing an amiable smile in the general direction of both ladies, he touched a finger to his chest. “It’s here, just above his right nipple.”
Win groaned inwardly. “Freddie, they don’t care where—”
“We enjoyed meeting your little girl yesterday, Colonel Vaughan,” Miss Douglass said with admirable aplomb. “She’s very prettily behaved. Would it be indelicate of me to ask how long you’ve been a widower?”
“Two years.” It sounded like only a short time, yet felt like ages. But then, Win sometimes felt he’d lived an entire lifetime in the ten years since he’d reached his majority. He’d fought on the Peninsula, sat by his father’s deathbed, married and seen his marriage crumble, followed Harriet’s coffin to the churchyard, and was now facing the looming mortgage on Hamble Grange. Just raising Julia seemed likely to turn
She gave Win a bright smile. “Oh, no, there’s nothing to excuse. I find his manners charming.”
She seemed in a perpetually sunny mood, despite the faint purplish circles under her eyes. She was so slender Win suspected he could span her waist with his hands. Then again, he might say the same for her sister, who certainly showed no sign yet of her condition.
Lady Radbourne resumed her place on the sofa. “Do sit down, please, gentlemen. The door is once again in good repair, as you no doubt observed when you arrived.”
Win took the chair she’d indicated, balancing his hat on his knee. Gad, but she was pretty. With a will of their own, Win’s eyes slid from her proud, lovely face to the neckline of her gown, where the pale curves of her breasts, high and firm, showed through the sheer silk net of her black fichu. A brief but undeniable stir of lust ran through him.
Now that was admirable of him, lusting after Lady Radbourne when she was expecting another man’s baby. Then again, Harriet had been at her most alluring when she’d been carrying his child, her body even more womanly than usual. Unless he was much mistaken, she’d wanted him more then too. He’d never been so surprised in his life as the night four or five months before Julia was born when he’d awakened to find Harriet straddling him in bed, slick with need, literally begging him to take her. He still grew aroused, sometimes, just thinking about it...
Which was why he shouldn’t be thinking about it, not now, sitting here with a widow and her maiden sister, no matter how lovely the widow or how colorful the gossip about her. “How are you feeling this morning, Lady Radbourne? When I last saw you, you were a trifle under the weather.”
It was a polite enough question—personal, perhaps, but certainly friendly—yet she looked even more wary than before. “I’m quite well, thank you. As you suggested, I made sure to eat a few biscuits before getting out of bed this morning. And I ate breakfast too.” She gave him an oddly measuring look. “Tea and toast.”
Win wondered at the reason for the look. Puzzled, he replied, “I’m glad to hear it. Sometimes a simple meal can work wonders. I know it often made the difference between gloom and good cheer when I was in Spain.”
Miss Douglass had joined her sister on the sofa, but at this she inclined his way with bright-eyed interest. “So you were in the war. For how long?”
“Eight years in the Light Division, from 1806 to 1814.”
“And you escaped without a scratch...”
“I wouldn’t say that. I took a jab from a French bayonet at Nivelle, and I’ve a fine scar to show for it. But I was more fortunate than most.”
“I can’t think why you call it a fine scar,” Freddie broke in. “It’s not an interesting shape, or even particularly colorful.” Directing an amiable smile in the general direction of both ladies, he touched a finger to his chest. “It’s here, just above his right nipple.”
Win groaned inwardly. “Freddie, they don’t care where—”
“We enjoyed meeting your little girl yesterday, Colonel Vaughan,” Miss Douglass said with admirable aplomb. “She’s very prettily behaved. Would it be indelicate of me to ask how long you’ve been a widower?”
“Two years.” It sounded like only a short time, yet felt like ages. But then, Win sometimes felt he’d lived an entire lifetime in the ten years since he’d reached his majority. He’d fought on the Peninsula, sat by his father’s deathbed, married and seen his marriage crumble, followed Harriet’s coffin to the churchyard, and was now facing the looming mortgage on Hamble Grange. Just raising Julia seemed likely to turn
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