Read Online How to Seduce a Duke by Kathryn Caskie - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathryn Caskie
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Quinn’s budding relationship with this... Hyde Park woman, just to be sure his battle-weary brother was not about to make the grandest mistake of his life.
“Brower rout tonight.” Rogan turned around and looked to Quinn. “Might behoove you to look your best this eve. Who knows, your nameless lady might be in attendance.”
Quinn’s whole face seemed to brighten. “Do you think so?”
Rogan shrugged. “Don’t know, but from what I’ve heard, half of London society shall be there. And since you claim she is highborn, which absolutely she is, because of the graceful curve of her back—”
Quinn laughed. “Then you must be sure to wear your blue coat, Rogan.”
“And why is that?”
“So you will look your best as well—when I introduce you to my betrothed.” Quinn grinned at him, then drained the last dark crimson droplets from his glass.
Rogan forced a chuckle, then tossed a wink at his brother and left the room. Instead of heading for his bedchamber, he turned straight down the passage and slipped into the library. There, he inked a short missive and sent it off with a footman.
He’d not leave his brother’s choice in brides to chance. In the event Quinn’s chit was indeed at the rout, Rogan intended to have a plan of contingency already in motion. And that plan included the beautiful young war widow, Lady Tidwell.
Lady Upperton stared across the carriage cabin and smiled at Mary with full approval. “That gown skims your contours so perfectly, dear, one might imagine that it is made from a wisp of spring sky, and overlaid with lace woven from airy clouds.”
“I daresay I had the very same thought, Lady Upperton .” Mary glanced down at the gown Lady Upperton had sent for her—a pale blue gossamer silk confection, iced with hair-thin threads of silver.
She sighed inwardly. The gown was beautiful, she had to admit. Still, she was not at all convinced that in light any stronger than that of the interior of the carriage, the mere whisper of a dress wouldn’t be entirely transparent.
Though she had to admit that such a gown was bound to draw suitors. For modesty’s sake she made a mental note to avoid all clusters of two or more candles, or two or more gentlemen this eve.
Elizabeth and Anne sat quietly beside her on the leather bench, their backs straight and rigid. Practiced smiles were pasted firmly upon both their faces, but it was clear they were more tightly wound with nerves than she.
They were too aware of their finery to enjoy riding in such a splendid vehicle. Instead, they fretted over the possibility of the jostling carriage wrinkling their skirts before they reached the Browers ’ grand house.
But reach it they did. Carriages lined
Grosvenor Square
three deep. Shouting drivers jockeyed for position, each trying to deliver his passengers to the single prime spot before the Browers ’ imposing home.
Through the grand lower-floor windows and the open front door, Mary could see into the crowded, brightly-lit house, where elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen moved shoulder to shoulder like dairy cows pushing through an open gate into a green meadow.
Within minutes, she, her sisters, and Lady Upperton were part of the lowing herd moving down the center hall toward the drawing room.
The movement of the crowd was so horribly slow and the sweaty press of bodies so great that Mary could hardly expand her ribs enough to breathe. It was only owing to her stature that she was able to draw a few gasps of air from above at all.
Elizabeth , however, did not share her misery. “Have a look, Mary.” Her youngest sister was cinched between her and Anne, and held tight to their arms. “I can lift my slippers from the floor and still move forward. You should try it. Watch.”
Mary felt a downward tug on her arm, and sure enough, Elizabeth was riding the ton. “Oh, good heavens. Stop that at once. We shall be inside the drawing room at any moment, and for certain there will be
“Brower rout tonight.” Rogan turned around and looked to Quinn. “Might behoove you to look your best this eve. Who knows, your nameless lady might be in attendance.”
Quinn’s whole face seemed to brighten. “Do you think so?”
Rogan shrugged. “Don’t know, but from what I’ve heard, half of London society shall be there. And since you claim she is highborn, which absolutely she is, because of the graceful curve of her back—”
Quinn laughed. “Then you must be sure to wear your blue coat, Rogan.”
“And why is that?”
“So you will look your best as well—when I introduce you to my betrothed.” Quinn grinned at him, then drained the last dark crimson droplets from his glass.
Rogan forced a chuckle, then tossed a wink at his brother and left the room. Instead of heading for his bedchamber, he turned straight down the passage and slipped into the library. There, he inked a short missive and sent it off with a footman.
He’d not leave his brother’s choice in brides to chance. In the event Quinn’s chit was indeed at the rout, Rogan intended to have a plan of contingency already in motion. And that plan included the beautiful young war widow, Lady Tidwell.
Lady Upperton stared across the carriage cabin and smiled at Mary with full approval. “That gown skims your contours so perfectly, dear, one might imagine that it is made from a wisp of spring sky, and overlaid with lace woven from airy clouds.”
“I daresay I had the very same thought, Lady Upperton .” Mary glanced down at the gown Lady Upperton had sent for her—a pale blue gossamer silk confection, iced with hair-thin threads of silver.
She sighed inwardly. The gown was beautiful, she had to admit. Still, she was not at all convinced that in light any stronger than that of the interior of the carriage, the mere whisper of a dress wouldn’t be entirely transparent.
Though she had to admit that such a gown was bound to draw suitors. For modesty’s sake she made a mental note to avoid all clusters of two or more candles, or two or more gentlemen this eve.
Elizabeth and Anne sat quietly beside her on the leather bench, their backs straight and rigid. Practiced smiles were pasted firmly upon both their faces, but it was clear they were more tightly wound with nerves than she.
They were too aware of their finery to enjoy riding in such a splendid vehicle. Instead, they fretted over the possibility of the jostling carriage wrinkling their skirts before they reached the Browers ’ grand house.
But reach it they did. Carriages lined
Grosvenor Square
three deep. Shouting drivers jockeyed for position, each trying to deliver his passengers to the single prime spot before the Browers ’ imposing home.
Through the grand lower-floor windows and the open front door, Mary could see into the crowded, brightly-lit house, where elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen moved shoulder to shoulder like dairy cows pushing through an open gate into a green meadow.
Within minutes, she, her sisters, and Lady Upperton were part of the lowing herd moving down the center hall toward the drawing room.
The movement of the crowd was so horribly slow and the sweaty press of bodies so great that Mary could hardly expand her ribs enough to breathe. It was only owing to her stature that she was able to draw a few gasps of air from above at all.
Elizabeth , however, did not share her misery. “Have a look, Mary.” Her youngest sister was cinched between her and Anne, and held tight to their arms. “I can lift my slippers from the floor and still move forward. You should try it. Watch.”
Mary felt a downward tug on her arm, and sure enough, Elizabeth was riding the ton. “Oh, good heavens. Stop that at once. We shall be inside the drawing room at any moment, and for certain there will be
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