Read Online How the Duke Was Won by Lenora Bell - Free Book Online Page B

her delectable mouth.
    The other ladies fanned themselves with their napkins.
    â€œHave a sip of wine, ladies. I know it’s not customary for you to drink, but you’ll find it perfectly complements the sauce and takes some of the spice away.”
    â€œOur family never partakes of spirits,” announced Lady Tombs. “ ‘For he shall separate himself from wine and strong drink,’ ” she intoned. “ ‘And shall drink no vinegar of wine, or vinegar of strong drink, neither shall he drink any liquor of grapes, nor eat moist grapes, or dried.’ ”
    Miss Tombs winced. “I’ve always wanted to see Italy, but really, have you heard how they make wine there? They step on it with their feet.” She smiled brightly. “Their feet . Do you know what manner of deformities may be contracted from feet? Why, only Verruca vulgaris, that’s what!”
    At their blank looks she added, “That’s Latin for ‘warts.’ My cousin Adeline has one on the side of her nose, poor thing.”
    â€œAlice,” her mother hissed.
    Lord. Save him from this dinner.
    Lady Dorothea raised her glass to the Tombs ladies. “ ‘Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.’ ” She took a healthy swallow. “Mr. Shakespeare.”
    Dalton clapped. “Bravo, Lady Dorothea. Well said.”
    James had to agree. Hell, she had more wit and fire than all the other ladies combined.
    She lifted her wineglass to Dalton, and when she lowered it, her bodice slipped even lower. James held his breath, mesmerized by the swell of her creamy breasts.
    The thin scrap of silk held.
    His control was wearing dangerously thin.

 
    Chapter 6
    T he duke stared at her with intense, forbidding green eyes.
    Charlene hoped he wasn’t playing one-­of-­these-­ladies-­is-­not-­like-­the-­others . She was trying to blend in with the others, but every time she opened her mouth, the countess kicked her under the table.
    Between ankle jabs from the countess and being forced to forego a mountain of mouthwatering delicacies, Charlene was in her own private hell. The gown was too tight only in the bodice. Couldn’t she eat just a bit?
    She sighed as the deliciously spiced beef was removed from the table only half finished.
    What a crime.
    It had been a very near thing with Grant. If the duke had invited his neighbor to dine, it would have been disastrous. Fooling an empty-­headed ninny like Lady Augusta was one thing. Outwitting a treacherous adversary who knew her as Charlene would have been nearly impossible.
    She drained her wine, remembering the feel of the baron’s hand clamped around her neck, the gleam of lust in his hard eyes.
    Her glass was immediately refilled, despite the countess’s frantic signals. None of the other girls drank their wine, but Charlene didn’t care. It made her feel reckless and daring. Perfectly capable of entrancing a whole army of dukes.
    â€œI’m fond of wine mulled with lemon and nutmeg,” said Lady Augusta in her breathy, little-­girl voice. “Mama is forever telling me to pace myself.” She fluttered thick, curled lashes. “Sometimes I just can’t say no, I’m afraid.”
    That silky wheat-­colored hair, those pouty berry-­red lips and enormous lake-­blue eyes. It really wasn’t fair. Lady Augusta was too gorgeous, and well aware of the fact. She narrowed her eyes at Charlene in the polite equivalent of a tigress unsheathing her claws.
    â€œLady Dorothea, dear,” she simpered. “Remember when you drank too much ratafia at your coming out? Lud, I thought you would die of mortification when you cast your accounts all over Lady Beckinsale’s gold silk in the lady’s retiring room.”
    Had that truly happened to Lady Dorothea? Poor thing. Charlene gripped her fork and contemplated sinking it