Read Online More Than a Duke (Heart of a Duke Book 2) by Christi Caldwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christi Caldwell
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from Anne’s breasts. The pale creamy white of her modest décolletage evoked all manner of sinful thoughts that involved her on her back and…
He groaned.
Concern replaced the earlier annoyance in Anne’s pale blue eyes. “Are you all right?”
Harry waved a hand. “Fine, fine,” he said quietly, his voice garbled. Really, far from fine . Because by God, Harry did not desire proper, marriage-minded misses. Even if they did possess lush forms to rival the fabled fertility goddesses. More specifically, he did not desire Anne.
She was cheeky.
And rude.
And condescending.
To him, anyway.
And he’d enough ladies clamoring for his notice that he didn’t need or want the attention of an impudent creature like her. She craned her long, graceful neck around Lord Cumberland’s cumbersome frame in attempt to view the front hall, her attention on Lady Caro now singing her off-key tune.
“She’s wearing a pale yellow satin gown with white lace trim,” he said from the corner of his mouth.
Anne blinked. She looked around.
He gestured to the front of the hall. “I gather you’re trying to see the young lady’s gown?”
She furrowed her brow. “Why would I care about the lady’s gown?”
Anne’s family glared as one at the two of them.
Harry grinned in response and continued. “Isn’t that what you have, my lady? A keen appreciation for fashion and—”
She snorted. “Lord Harry, I wear white and ivory satin ruffled monstrosities. Do I take you as one to spend the evening mooning over a pretty gown?”
“Quite the reason to moon over a pretty gown,” he amended.
Her mouth screwed up. “I suppose.” She shook her head. “But I’m not staring at her gown. I’m watching the performance,” she spoke as if scolding a recalcitrant child.
Lady Katherine frowned at the two of them. Harry winked and the Katherine he’d come to know as friend gave her head a disapproving shake.
“Oomph.”
Anne jabbed an elbow in his side, a frown on her plump lips.
Bloody hell. The chit had sharp, dagger-like elbows. “What was that for?”
She opened and closed her mouth several times like a trout plucked from a well-stocked lake. “You weren’t paying attention.” He cocked his head. “To the recital,” she clarified.
Lady Caro concluded her song and thunderous applause filled the hall, applause which likely had a good deal more to do with the actual end of her piece than anything else. The next Westmoreland lady stepped forward to wound the ears of those present. She eyed the crowded room with something akin to horror, and Harry suspected this particular Westmoreland was well-aware of her precise level of talent. She opened her mouth and another off-key song resonated throughout the marbled space.
He sighed. “Another lyrical soprano,” he said, knowing it would infuriate Anne.
She jabbed an elbow in his side. Again.
Harry winced. He was going to have a vicious bruise to his ribs by the end of the evening’s performance.
“I’ve already told you, a lady can no more determine the pitch quality of her voice than she can…”
He arched an eyebrow.
She frowned. “Than she can…well, I don’t know. But I do know a lady cannot simply decide if she is a soprano or contralto. It is something she’s born with and not something she can or for that matter should” another jab, “ want to change, all to earn the affections of a man who’d have her with a husky singing voice.”
“Sultry.”
She cocked her head.
“Husky and sultry. You forgot—”
“Will you two hush?” Katherine whispered.
Color flooded Anne’s cheeks and she gave a curt nod.
Lady One-of-the-Westmorelands at last concluded her piece, ushering in a brief, and much needed intermission. A loud buzz, like a hive he’d once knocked down as a boy, filled the room as the members of the
He groaned.
Concern replaced the earlier annoyance in Anne’s pale blue eyes. “Are you all right?”
Harry waved a hand. “Fine, fine,” he said quietly, his voice garbled. Really, far from fine . Because by God, Harry did not desire proper, marriage-minded misses. Even if they did possess lush forms to rival the fabled fertility goddesses. More specifically, he did not desire Anne.
She was cheeky.
And rude.
And condescending.
To him, anyway.
And he’d enough ladies clamoring for his notice that he didn’t need or want the attention of an impudent creature like her. She craned her long, graceful neck around Lord Cumberland’s cumbersome frame in attempt to view the front hall, her attention on Lady Caro now singing her off-key tune.
“She’s wearing a pale yellow satin gown with white lace trim,” he said from the corner of his mouth.
Anne blinked. She looked around.
He gestured to the front of the hall. “I gather you’re trying to see the young lady’s gown?”
She furrowed her brow. “Why would I care about the lady’s gown?”
Anne’s family glared as one at the two of them.
Harry grinned in response and continued. “Isn’t that what you have, my lady? A keen appreciation for fashion and—”
She snorted. “Lord Harry, I wear white and ivory satin ruffled monstrosities. Do I take you as one to spend the evening mooning over a pretty gown?”
“Quite the reason to moon over a pretty gown,” he amended.
Her mouth screwed up. “I suppose.” She shook her head. “But I’m not staring at her gown. I’m watching the performance,” she spoke as if scolding a recalcitrant child.
Lady Katherine frowned at the two of them. Harry winked and the Katherine he’d come to know as friend gave her head a disapproving shake.
“Oomph.”
Anne jabbed an elbow in his side, a frown on her plump lips.
Bloody hell. The chit had sharp, dagger-like elbows. “What was that for?”
She opened and closed her mouth several times like a trout plucked from a well-stocked lake. “You weren’t paying attention.” He cocked his head. “To the recital,” she clarified.
Lady Caro concluded her song and thunderous applause filled the hall, applause which likely had a good deal more to do with the actual end of her piece than anything else. The next Westmoreland lady stepped forward to wound the ears of those present. She eyed the crowded room with something akin to horror, and Harry suspected this particular Westmoreland was well-aware of her precise level of talent. She opened her mouth and another off-key song resonated throughout the marbled space.
He sighed. “Another lyrical soprano,” he said, knowing it would infuriate Anne.
She jabbed an elbow in his side. Again.
Harry winced. He was going to have a vicious bruise to his ribs by the end of the evening’s performance.
“I’ve already told you, a lady can no more determine the pitch quality of her voice than she can…”
He arched an eyebrow.
She frowned. “Than she can…well, I don’t know. But I do know a lady cannot simply decide if she is a soprano or contralto. It is something she’s born with and not something she can or for that matter should” another jab, “ want to change, all to earn the affections of a man who’d have her with a husky singing voice.”
“Sultry.”
She cocked her head.
“Husky and sultry. You forgot—”
“Will you two hush?” Katherine whispered.
Color flooded Anne’s cheeks and she gave a curt nod.
Lady One-of-the-Westmorelands at last concluded her piece, ushering in a brief, and much needed intermission. A loud buzz, like a hive he’d once knocked down as a boy, filled the room as the members of the
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