Read Online The Duke by Catherine Coulter - Free Book Online Page A

who you were when you opened your mouth and spoke like such a—”
    â€œLet’s just say that I spoke like an Englishman, all right?”
    â€œThat’s exactly right,” Brandy said.
    Uncle Claude cackled from his place beside Lady Adella’s chair. “Yer grace mistakes the matter. Our Brandy here is the eldest. It’s near to nineteen she is.”
    Percy said, “Appearances are sometimes deceptive, don’t ye agree, Brandy?”
    She wanted to kick him, but she couldn’t, not in front of Grandmama and an English duke who was related to them. She raised her chin and stared at him.
    â€œDo leave the girl alone, Percy,” Lady Adella said, and tapped his arm with her fan. “I told ye that she doesn’t yet ken what to do with your sort. Give her time, give her time. I try to teach her a bit each day.”
    â€œWell, I for one do agree with Percy,” Constance said. “Most gentlemen do think I’m the eldest.” She patted several soft black tendrils into place and gazed at the duke with the melting look she’d been practicing in front of her mirror. He looked disconcerted. It was obvious she’d have to practice some more.
    â€œWhere could that old sot Crabbe be?” Lady Adella wondered aloud. “I swear we would all starve to death if he had his way in the matter. He becomes slower by the year. I wonder what he’s drinking in the kitchen?”
    â€œGood evening, Brandy,” said Bertrand in his calm, cultured voice. “Ye’re looking fit, but then ye always do.”
    â€œGood evening, cousin Bertrand, Uncle Claude. How are ye feeling, sir?”
    â€œAs fit as can be expected with this damned gout. Bertie here gives me little sympathy, just stares down at his ledgers and does naught of anything else at all.”
    He gazed over at the duke, who stood in conversation with Lady Adella, and added with barely veiled malice, “The duke’s much more the thing than poor Bertrand here, I vow. I’ll wager he’s a man who tells ye exactly what’s on his mind. Of course, Bertie here is much too timid a fellow to tell us how he feels.”
    â€œFather,” Bertrand said in a low voice.
    â€œLook ye at Percy,” Claude continued, disregarding his son. “It’s an oily viper’s tongue he has, but at least he doesn’t chew his cud in silence like a stupid cow.”
    â€œHe’s a bull, Uncle Claude,” Brandy said in a loud voice, “if you must use that simile.”
    To Bertrand she said quickly in a low voice, “Why did the duke come here? Grandmama said he would have no interest in us. She said he’d send a man of business. I don’t understand. Isn’t he rich? Isn’t he a peer of the realm? Why the devil is he here?”
    â€œAll of those things, I should imagine. I don’t know why he came, Brandy. Mayhap he was visiting some friends in Scotland and thought to deign to visit his poor relations. Time will tell.”
    Brandy frowned, thinking of their crofters. Her jaw tightened. The English were always taking. He was here to see for himself how much he could squeeze from the land. He might be elegant, even a bit on the handsome side, but he was still greedy for all that.
    Crabbe flung open the doors and announced in his wheezy voice, “Dinner be ready.”
    Brandy, for the first time in her life, feltembarrassed. The duke would think them backward. He would think they weren’t civilized. Why could Crabbe not say that dinner was served, like a well-trained English servant?
    â€œIt’s about time, ye old sot,” said Lady Adella, planting her cane and rising slowly. Percy slipped his hand under her arm.
    â€œBrandy, ye’re the eldest. Let his grace lead ye to dinner, and mind you don’t bore him with how ye caught the biggest sea bass last month.”
    â€œBut, Grandmama,” Constance said. “I might not be the