Read Online Dear Impostor by Nicole Byrd - Free Book Online Page A

the bell pull and tugged it vigorously.
              “No!“ Psyche said, thinking wildly
for an excuse—any excuse. “You can’t. I don’t think he has risen.”
              But this time, the butler appeared
in the doorway too quickly. She hoped he had not been outside listening to
their argument.
              “Jowers, take me to that accused
Marquis’ chamber,” Percy demanded, with the ease of one long acquainted with
the family servants.
              The butler nodded and turned, and
Percy strode after him. Psyche, furious to have lost control of the situation,
was reduced to running along the hall after them.
              “I will not allow my guest to be
harassed, Percy!”
              But he wouldn’t listen. Psyche
felt her heart beat faster. Was it over before it had begun? Her precious plan
seemed in shreds already.
              When the butler led them all to
the guest floor and indicated the chamber, Percy plunged forward, pushing open
the door after only the briefest knock, not waiting for any permission to
enter.
              From outside in the hallway,
Psyche heard a startled exclamation–Percy’s, she thought–and then a roar of
outrage.
              Had Percy attacked the actor? Or–remembering
the missing footman– had the actor attacked Percy? Was someone being murdered? Psyche
couldn’t help herself–she ran into the room, only to stop abruptly just inside
the doorway.
              “What do you mean by this, Sir? Are
you some savage, to insult my cousin’s household in this fashion?” Percy was
demanding.
              Psyche gasped. The actor sat in a
large wing chair facing the window; he had apparently been reading the
newspaper. But the reason for Percy’s shock was obvious. The man was completely–bare-as-a-newborn
babe–naked. At least he appeared naked, except for the happy coincidence of the
newspaper.
              God Save the Times, Psyche thought
a trifle hysterically.
              Gabriel had turned slightly to
meet Percy’s gaze, and his broad shoulders and chest were quite uncovered. The
newspaper he had lowered covered his torso below the waist, but she could see a
glimpse of muscular legs and bare feet.
              Psyche felt her cheeks burn. She
had never seen a man unclothed before. This was shocking, most improper. And if
one corner of her mind couldn’t help noting that the man’s form was just as
well made and as pleasing as his face, if she noted the breadth of his
shoulders or the muscled biceps of his arms—well, she smothered those dreadful
thoughts immediately, of course. After one last lingering glance, she averted
her gaze and studied the figured carpet beneath her feet with great
concentration.
              “No, indeed,” Gabriel’s voice was
as calm and controlled as if entertaining au naturel were an everyday
occurrence. For all she knew it probably was. Unprincipled wretch! Psyche
risked another quick glance to glare at him, noting absently the faint stubble
that marked his chin and lower cheeks. Even that did not mar his incredible
good looks.
              “I simply have had a slight accident
with my apparel. When the servant brought me a cup of tea this morning, he took
away my evening clothes to be brushed and pressed. Until I rose, I didn’t know
that my other luggage had not reappeared.”
              “B-but–” Percy stammered, still
obviously flustered.
              “I sent the footman to the hotel
to fetch them last night,” Gabriel continued smoothly. “But according to the
other servants, he doesn’t seem to have returned.”
              This brought Psyche’s head erect
again, and anger pushed aside any remnants of embarrassment. “You sent my
footman out into the street alone at such an hour! How dare you?”
              “It didn’t seem an outrageous
request,”