Read Online Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke by Suzanne Enoch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
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room.
His jacket was missing, his cravat only half tied and baring his throat to her view. The effect was startlingly sensual and masculine all at the same time. A low flutter began in her stomach. Previously she’d noted that Adam Baswich was tall and lean and attractive—after all, it was so obvious that only a blind woman wouldn’t notice him.
But back in London she’d thought of him first as a duke, a powerful, wealthy aristocrat who for some reason had deigned to help Keating win Camille. He’d been one of a number of unexpected acquaintances she’d made over the years. And then he’d invited her to Christmas the day after her father had delivered his ultimatum. And now she owed him a kiss. And—
“Sophia,” he barked. “Is something amiss?”
Heavens. “No. No. We’re quite well. Caesar startled Mrs. Brooks, is all.”
“I thought him a footstool, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said, curtsying. “I apologize for disturbing you.”
He sent a cool gray glance at the servant, then returned his gaze to Sophia. Because she was looking back at him, she couldn’t help noting his eyes lowering to sweep down and then up the length of her in a rather leisurely manner. Belatedly she remembered that she wore nothing but a hopelessly oversized night rail that drooped from one shoulder. She pulled her sleeve back into place, that odd heat shivering through her again. A kiss from that man would be very nice, indeed. When, though, would he collect on the wager?
“Very well, then.” His gaze returned to her face. “I recommend you borrow something warm, Sophia. The snow’s stopped, so you’ll go riding with me after you eat something.”
It sounded more like an order than an invitation, but she nodded. “I’d love to see the countryside. As long as you keep in mind that I’ve ridden only rarely before.”
He inclined his head. “If you fall from the saddle, the snow will be soft. And the dogs can drag you home.”
Sophia snorted before she could stop herself. “Perhaps I should begin by riding Caesar.”
A laugh, deep and merry, rumbled from his chest. “I would pay good money to see that.”
Grinning back at him, for a moment she wondered what he would do if she simply walked up and kissed his smiling mouth. She did owe him just that, after all. Her heart skittered. What did she have to lose? She’d been ruined since birth, and whatever remnants of respectability might have existed had vanished the moment she found employment at The Tantalus Club. And after this holiday she would be so far from the eyes of Society she might as well be dead. She’d almost rather be dead, actually, then walk into what lay in wait for her.
His gaze met hers. Abruptly he cleared his throat and took a step back toward the door. “Since no one has been murdered, I’ll leave you to dress. I’ll see you at the stable.”
“Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You’re welcome. Unnecessary or not, I appreciate receiving credit for the effort.”
Once he’d closed her door behind him, Sophia walked over to survey the three gowns the servants had been kind enough to lend her. None of them would do for horseback, particularly not in the snow. She pursed her lips, then turned to Mrs. Brooks. “I don’t suppose anyone owns a riding habit,” she mused.
“Only Lady Wallace. I could inquire of her maid, Grace.”
“Oh, please don’t. She’ll only insult both of us.”
Mrs. Brooks looked relieved. “Perhaps I could borrow a heavy coat from one of the grooms, then. It wouldn’t be very fine, but it would be warm.”
That would suit. And however necessary borrowing garments was at the moment, she’d also noticed that the duke seemed to … appreciate her unconventional wardrobe. It was rather odd to realize that he shared her enjoyment of the absurd. “You know, Milly, your suggestion of the warm coat gives me something of an idea.”
* * *
Adam kicked a heel against the outside wall of the
His jacket was missing, his cravat only half tied and baring his throat to her view. The effect was startlingly sensual and masculine all at the same time. A low flutter began in her stomach. Previously she’d noted that Adam Baswich was tall and lean and attractive—after all, it was so obvious that only a blind woman wouldn’t notice him.
But back in London she’d thought of him first as a duke, a powerful, wealthy aristocrat who for some reason had deigned to help Keating win Camille. He’d been one of a number of unexpected acquaintances she’d made over the years. And then he’d invited her to Christmas the day after her father had delivered his ultimatum. And now she owed him a kiss. And—
“Sophia,” he barked. “Is something amiss?”
Heavens. “No. No. We’re quite well. Caesar startled Mrs. Brooks, is all.”
“I thought him a footstool, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said, curtsying. “I apologize for disturbing you.”
He sent a cool gray glance at the servant, then returned his gaze to Sophia. Because she was looking back at him, she couldn’t help noting his eyes lowering to sweep down and then up the length of her in a rather leisurely manner. Belatedly she remembered that she wore nothing but a hopelessly oversized night rail that drooped from one shoulder. She pulled her sleeve back into place, that odd heat shivering through her again. A kiss from that man would be very nice, indeed. When, though, would he collect on the wager?
“Very well, then.” His gaze returned to her face. “I recommend you borrow something warm, Sophia. The snow’s stopped, so you’ll go riding with me after you eat something.”
It sounded more like an order than an invitation, but she nodded. “I’d love to see the countryside. As long as you keep in mind that I’ve ridden only rarely before.”
He inclined his head. “If you fall from the saddle, the snow will be soft. And the dogs can drag you home.”
Sophia snorted before she could stop herself. “Perhaps I should begin by riding Caesar.”
A laugh, deep and merry, rumbled from his chest. “I would pay good money to see that.”
Grinning back at him, for a moment she wondered what he would do if she simply walked up and kissed his smiling mouth. She did owe him just that, after all. Her heart skittered. What did she have to lose? She’d been ruined since birth, and whatever remnants of respectability might have existed had vanished the moment she found employment at The Tantalus Club. And after this holiday she would be so far from the eyes of Society she might as well be dead. She’d almost rather be dead, actually, then walk into what lay in wait for her.
His gaze met hers. Abruptly he cleared his throat and took a step back toward the door. “Since no one has been murdered, I’ll leave you to dress. I’ll see you at the stable.”
“Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You’re welcome. Unnecessary or not, I appreciate receiving credit for the effort.”
Once he’d closed her door behind him, Sophia walked over to survey the three gowns the servants had been kind enough to lend her. None of them would do for horseback, particularly not in the snow. She pursed her lips, then turned to Mrs. Brooks. “I don’t suppose anyone owns a riding habit,” she mused.
“Only Lady Wallace. I could inquire of her maid, Grace.”
“Oh, please don’t. She’ll only insult both of us.”
Mrs. Brooks looked relieved. “Perhaps I could borrow a heavy coat from one of the grooms, then. It wouldn’t be very fine, but it would be warm.”
That would suit. And however necessary borrowing garments was at the moment, she’d also noticed that the duke seemed to … appreciate her unconventional wardrobe. It was rather odd to realize that he shared her enjoyment of the absurd. “You know, Milly, your suggestion of the warm coat gives me something of an idea.”
* * *
Adam kicked a heel against the outside wall of the
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