Read Online Deceiving The Duke (Scandals and Spies Book 2) by Leighann Dobbs, Harmony Williams - Free Book Online Page A

a wide grin on her face. Despite the exertion adding color to her cheeks, not a strand of her hair was out of place. Locks of Phil’s hair tickled her neck. She gritted her teeth, resolutely ignoring the irritation. Some women had all the luck.
    As she dropped into one of the masculine armchairs, a leather-bound pocketbook and a graphite pencil in hand, Lucy beamed. “Has Mother told you the good news?”
    Wary, Phil glanced toward the dowager, who pressed her lips together in restrained mirth, but didn’t comment. “I’m afraid not. What news?”
    “We’re getting a parrot!”
    “That’s…wonderful news?”
    Leaning forward, Lucy gripped Phil’s forearm hard, unable to contain her glee. “Isn’t it just? I’ve been up all night trying to settle on the right name. How did you choose yours?”
    Phil smiled, recalling that chaotic moment. Pearls flying across the tea shop, an old woman screaming profanity, and Pickle flapping out of the reach of the beastly woman’s cane. Phil’s heart had been in her mouth. She’d had a bruise for two weeks on her forearm where she’d taken the blow from that cane in his place.
    Gently, Phil pried the young woman’s death grip off her arm. “I rescued him from certain death after his owner got irritated that he broke her necklace. When I told him he was in a pickle, he made that cooing bird giggle that parrots make. He didn’t stop repeating the word for days.”
    Lucy canted her head to the side, staring into the air as she tapped her lower lip with her pinky. “Maybe I should see what the bird wants to be named. I had hoped that you would be able to help me find a reputable place to buy a bird, though…”
    “I’m afraid I found Pickle by luck alone. I will keep my ear to the ground in case I hear of anything.”
    “Thank you. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help train our parrot when we get one?”
    Phil was saved from having to answer as the young maid returned with a tray full of overturned cups, a tea pot, sugar dish, and milk jug, a scrumptious-looking seed cake, and several plates. As the young woman curtsied, miraculously keeping the tray perfectly level, Phil hopped to her feet.
    “Could I beg the use of your retiring room for a moment?”
    Lucy shrugged. “Certainly. It’s down the hall—”
    The dowager leaned forward with a smile. “Why don’t you use the one on the third floor, Miss St. Gobain? The one down here is in disrepair and that one is much nicer. All the way down the hall at the back of the house.”
    Phil’s heartbeat quickened. Her mouth dried. Did Lady Graylocke suspect that Phil wasn’t here for a social call? She swallowed, trying to call moisture into her mouth, before she replied as evenly as she could manage.
    “Thank you, Lady Graylocke, I will.”
    “Please, call me Evelyn.”
    Phil’s lips parted. It took her a moment to muster words. “Thank you. And you must call me Phil.”
    The dowager waved one hand idly through the air. “If you get lost, call out. Someone will be by to help you in a trice.”
    “Thank you. I will.”
    Somehow, Phil managed to put one foot in front of the other and vacate the room before her heart clawed its way out from between the bars of her ribcage. In the fresh air of the corridor, her churning thoughts settled. The dowager duchess—Evelyn—had given her the perfect excuse to venture above stairs.
    She took it, quickly mounting to the second floor. A pair of maids hummed as they bustled out of a room at the end with feather dusters in hand. With servants nearby, Phil didn’t dare linger to discover what rooms lay beyond the doorways peppering the corridor. She mounted the stairs to the third floor. At least she had an excuse to be here.
    When she opened the first door on her right to display a feminine bedchamber—likely Lucy’s, given the books and papers piled on every flat surface—she realized that she’d been directed to the family’s personal quarters. Excellent. If she