Read Online That Scandalous Summer by Meredith Duran - Free Book Online

it some thought these past few nights; he knew exactly how he would do it. He would start with her fingers, sucking them into his mouth one by one . . .
    “Mr. Grey was invited to that same dinner,” Mrs. Chudderley said, her smile teasing. “Alas, I fear he thinks that to sit at my table will endanger his immortal soul. Being an expert on such matters, perhaps you will counsel him, Mr. Pershall.”
    “Ah, but I think nothing of the sort.” Damn it, his tone was all wrong—low and flirtatious, to match her own. It was a reflex, of course. Second sons with overlarge noses had to become quite skilled in seduction if they wished to snare a woman’s interest. And in the normal course . . . by God, he would have spent a great deal of effort snaring this one.
    But this was not the normal course. Michael frowned and cleared his throat. He did not understand her interest in him . She was not the sort to take a personal interest in lowly country doctors.
    Aware of Pershall’s interested attention, he bowed again, striving now to seem properly staid. “Ma’am, as I told you before, my only fear was to lower the tone of the company.” Recall I am a mere doctor.
    “Oh, I rather doubt that,” she said with a lift of her brow. And then, when the silence drew on a moment too long and began to seem as pointed as her remark, she laughed and turned toward her maid to take the parasol. “Mather, I know you had some business in town. Hand me that basket and I’ll go on by myself.”
    “Quite,” said the maid, and dumped the basket into her mistress’s arms. Turning on her heel, she strode off.
    The abruptness of her exit did not strike him alone.“Peculiar girl,” said the widow as she turned back—sounding, to his mild surprise, amused rather than irked. “Mr. Pershall, you shall hear from me tomorrow morning; I mean to send the flowers and whatnot by ten o’clock.”
    “Thank you. But may I say, Mrs. Chudderley, I wish that someday soon we might meet on a Sunday. Our congregation misses you sorely.”
    “Oh,” she said lightly, “one of these days, sir, the sinner shall return to her flock. And then you may reform me to your heart’s content! Mr. Grey, will you walk with me?”
    Very bad idea. He glanced to Pershall, who was beaming like a young boy whose cheeks had just been pinched by the most buxom dairy maid in the milking shed. No help there. “In fact, I may have patients waiting—”
    “But that’s precisely my concern,” she said. “The Browards’ boy has been ailing. I’m certain they would appreciate a professional opinion.”
    He eyed her narrowly for a moment, suspicious of how well she’d crafted her lure. But her smile was bright and guileless, and he’d look like an ass if he declined. Moreover, ethical obligations forbade him to do so. The avoidance of flirts and preservation of one’s virtue did not take priority over sick children.
    He took a deep breath. Restraint: he would have to practice restraint. A true novelty, along with all this bleeding fresh air. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be glad to have a look at him.”
    “Lovely!” She thrust the basket into his arms and walked off without so much as a by-your-leave. The foamy gown transformed her gait into something more like a . . . strut. The wind kicked up again, and his feveredmind thought it glimpsed the outline of a well-shaped hip, sloping inward to a shapely thigh.
    Long before Alastair came calling, chastity was going to kill him.
    •   •   •
    Young Daniel was running a slight fever, but Michael felt it safe to declare him on the mend, particularly after the boy evidenced a healthy appetite by attacking Mrs. Chudderley’s basket of custards. Mrs. Broward, heavily pregnant, insisted on tea, and a half hour and two pots later, Michael sat on a small chair, desperately trying to rearrange his limbs in a way that did not suggest the extreme discomfort occasioned by furniture designed for a much shorter