Read Online The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) by Meara Platt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meara Platt
Ads: Link
nice to her. He made her body parts tingle. More than tingle. They were on volcano-about-to-erupt alert.
He fished into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here, I have something for you.” He handed her a slender box.
A gift? From Ian? She closed her eyes a moment to cool her overly heated senses. “What is it?”
“Open it and see. I promise, it’s no trick. Just as you were thinking of my firm and golden buns,” he teased, “I was thinking of you. I was going to stop by your residence sometime later this week, but since we’re here right now, there’s no point in waiting. Go on, open the box. I think you’ll like what’s inside.”
She nodded and smiled up at him, but was worried that he’d bought her an expensive trinket, the sort of elaborate jewelry that a man would purchase for his mistress. She could never wear something like that. Nor would she accept it. And what would her family say? “You don’t owe me anything, Ian. I’m glad you’ve recovered and look so fit. I—oh, Ian! It’s beautiful!” She gazed up at him and laughed. He’d bought her a silver brooch fashioned in the shape of an elephant gun. It wasn’t fancy at all, didn’t even have any precious gemstones worked into it. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
“Am I forgiven for teasing you?”
She nodded. “You’re forgiven for everything.”
He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “What else have I done wrong?”
“Nothing.” And that was the problem. As far as she could tell, he had no faults, except for his desire never to marry.
That counted as a fault, didn’t it?
CHAPTER 4
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, Ian was comfortably ensconced in one of the overstuffed leather chairs in the larger club room at White’s, nursing a finely aged Madeira port and contemplating his latest problem. The mahogany wood-paneled male sanctuary smelled of finely cured cigars, worn leather, oil polish, and newsprint.
He’d just ordered another glass of port when Graelem and Gabriel strode in. If Graelem was back in town, then the entire Farthingale clan could not be far behind. Cousins, aunts, and uncles from Oxfordshire, Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and heaven knows where else would all descend on the Farthingale residence on Chipping Way, eager to celebrate the start of this year’s season.
He knew Dillie would not mind the noise or be dismayed by the lack of privacy, for she loved every single member of her unruly family. Quite a contrast between the Farthingales and his own miserable excuse for relatives.
“There you are,” Gabriel said from across the room, earning frowns from the older gentlemen hunched in their chairs, reading their newspapers. “Where have you been hiding?”
“In plain sight.” It was early April, still a little too soon for the marriage mart to fully hit its stride, but there were plenty of dinner parties, musicales, and soirees to keep those already in town entertained. He’d attended a few of those events, mostly those known to attract a faster crowd. He knew Dillie would not be permitted to attend these more risqué gatherings.
Ian set down the crystal wine glass he’d been absently twirling in his hand and rose as his friends approached.
“You weren’t at Eloise’s last night.”
He shrugged. “Something came up. I couldn’t make it.”
Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. He’d mellowed since his marriage to Daisy, no doubt due to her influence; she was the middle Farthingale daughter and the one who always strove to keep peace in the family. Graelem had married Laurel, the hot-tempered daughter. Graelem had a bit of a temper himself and needed a strong-willed woman to keep him in check, though it was Laurel’s soft side that seemed to do the trick more often than not.
Dillie, the youngest of the Farthingale girls, although by only several minutes, seemed to have taken snippets of the best qualities from her sisters. She was as artistic as Rose, the eldest. She was spirited, but not as quick to
He fished into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here, I have something for you.” He handed her a slender box.
A gift? From Ian? She closed her eyes a moment to cool her overly heated senses. “What is it?”
“Open it and see. I promise, it’s no trick. Just as you were thinking of my firm and golden buns,” he teased, “I was thinking of you. I was going to stop by your residence sometime later this week, but since we’re here right now, there’s no point in waiting. Go on, open the box. I think you’ll like what’s inside.”
She nodded and smiled up at him, but was worried that he’d bought her an expensive trinket, the sort of elaborate jewelry that a man would purchase for his mistress. She could never wear something like that. Nor would she accept it. And what would her family say? “You don’t owe me anything, Ian. I’m glad you’ve recovered and look so fit. I—oh, Ian! It’s beautiful!” She gazed up at him and laughed. He’d bought her a silver brooch fashioned in the shape of an elephant gun. It wasn’t fancy at all, didn’t even have any precious gemstones worked into it. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
“Am I forgiven for teasing you?”
She nodded. “You’re forgiven for everything.”
He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “What else have I done wrong?”
“Nothing.” And that was the problem. As far as she could tell, he had no faults, except for his desire never to marry.
That counted as a fault, didn’t it?
CHAPTER 4
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, Ian was comfortably ensconced in one of the overstuffed leather chairs in the larger club room at White’s, nursing a finely aged Madeira port and contemplating his latest problem. The mahogany wood-paneled male sanctuary smelled of finely cured cigars, worn leather, oil polish, and newsprint.
He’d just ordered another glass of port when Graelem and Gabriel strode in. If Graelem was back in town, then the entire Farthingale clan could not be far behind. Cousins, aunts, and uncles from Oxfordshire, Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and heaven knows where else would all descend on the Farthingale residence on Chipping Way, eager to celebrate the start of this year’s season.
He knew Dillie would not mind the noise or be dismayed by the lack of privacy, for she loved every single member of her unruly family. Quite a contrast between the Farthingales and his own miserable excuse for relatives.
“There you are,” Gabriel said from across the room, earning frowns from the older gentlemen hunched in their chairs, reading their newspapers. “Where have you been hiding?”
“In plain sight.” It was early April, still a little too soon for the marriage mart to fully hit its stride, but there were plenty of dinner parties, musicales, and soirees to keep those already in town entertained. He’d attended a few of those events, mostly those known to attract a faster crowd. He knew Dillie would not be permitted to attend these more risqué gatherings.
Ian set down the crystal wine glass he’d been absently twirling in his hand and rose as his friends approached.
“You weren’t at Eloise’s last night.”
He shrugged. “Something came up. I couldn’t make it.”
Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. He’d mellowed since his marriage to Daisy, no doubt due to her influence; she was the middle Farthingale daughter and the one who always strove to keep peace in the family. Graelem had married Laurel, the hot-tempered daughter. Graelem had a bit of a temper himself and needed a strong-willed woman to keep him in check, though it was Laurel’s soft side that seemed to do the trick more often than not.
Dillie, the youngest of the Farthingale girls, although by only several minutes, seemed to have taken snippets of the best qualities from her sisters. She was as artistic as Rose, the eldest. She was spirited, but not as quick to
Similar Books
