Read Online The Duke's Obsession (Entangled Scandalous) by Frances Fowlkes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Frances Fowlkes
Tags: Regency, London, Romantic Comedy, enemies to lovers, entangled publishing, 1800's, Scandalous, Entangled Scandalous, across the tracks, duke, American heiress
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sister in her time of need, but I will most certainly do so for you.”
Daphne glanced around the coach, at the resolute nods and glittering eyes that suddenly seemed to bear an uncanny resemblance to her own. How had she not seen the same heart-shaped faces staring back, the same dimple in their chins as they tilted them upward? How had she been so oblivious to the physical similarities she shared with her English relations?
The coach dipped forward, and she inwardly shook her head, clearing it of the wayward thoughts. She had no time for sentimentality; she would be bound for Boston as soon as the ship recovered its inventory.
“While I am most flattered and thankful for your support, I pray that neither Thomas nor I require it. I am most certain he has had a successful afternoon.”
Sarah leaned back into her seat, her dark brow raised. “As much as I hope you are right, one should never be too limited in one’s options.”
Aunt Susan nodded and beamed from her perch next to Henrietta. “Which is why we have an alternate plan should Thomas give us a less than satisfactory report of the day’s events.”
Her pulse racing, Daphne began counting under her breath, the floral bouquet of her cousin’s perfume filling her nostrils and making her head swim. What alternate plan? And how had she been so ignorant of her relations’ involvement in her affairs?
“I don’t suppose it involves you countering Mr. Burnham’s rumors?” Daphne whispered.
Henrietta pulled down the shade and leaned forward. “Heavens no, Daphne. We do not have the clout of a duke.”
Daphne bit down on her bottom lip. Once again she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her, and once again she was feeling the sting of her failure. Had she done a better job of restraining her tongue, perhaps the duke would have assisted her in overcoming the rumors. But with today’s brash behavior and biting remarks, she held little hope of gaining the duke’s favor…and stemming Burnham’s gossip.
Aunt Susan patted Daphne’s leg. “We have been invited to Lady Fairbanks’s musicale tomorrow evening. As her husband is the duke’s second cousin, His Grace is almost always in attendance. You may ask for his assistance then. That is, of course,” her aunt paused, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “only if Thomas’s day did not go as planned.”
…
If there was something Edward hated more than a London ball, it was the strains of an ill-played concerto.
He rather enjoyed the rich tone of the cello and high song of the violin. But to hear them played in a less than harmonious partnership was more than a little disappointing—it was damn near sinful.
And yet, his tone-deaf cousin continued to utilize the services of her three beautiful, if hardly musically inclined, daughters.
Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to stuff a few tufts of cotton into his ears prior to the evening’s “entertainments.” Unfortunately, his mother had seen the damn tufts and had pulled them out of his ears before the first scrape of the cello had been bowed.
It was no small comfort then that, gazing out over the crush of people, he, at the very least, was not the only one about to suffer through the debacle. Westbrook, the foul lout, was sitting in the third row, and staring at…well, damn.
How had he missed her? How had he not seen the radiant burst of light, the pale yellow silk of her gown catching the flickers from the candle and making her look like an extension of the flame itself?
She was beautiful, desirable, and most definitely worthy of his attentions. Hell, just the sight of her had him crossing his legs in a vain attempt to hide his ill-timed arousal. Which made Miss Farrington a delightfully tantalizing temptation. Edward tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes darting to the very edge of his vision. He had only wished to catch a glimpse of those seated beside her, when he noticed her two very blue, and very anxious, eyes staring
Daphne glanced around the coach, at the resolute nods and glittering eyes that suddenly seemed to bear an uncanny resemblance to her own. How had she not seen the same heart-shaped faces staring back, the same dimple in their chins as they tilted them upward? How had she been so oblivious to the physical similarities she shared with her English relations?
The coach dipped forward, and she inwardly shook her head, clearing it of the wayward thoughts. She had no time for sentimentality; she would be bound for Boston as soon as the ship recovered its inventory.
“While I am most flattered and thankful for your support, I pray that neither Thomas nor I require it. I am most certain he has had a successful afternoon.”
Sarah leaned back into her seat, her dark brow raised. “As much as I hope you are right, one should never be too limited in one’s options.”
Aunt Susan nodded and beamed from her perch next to Henrietta. “Which is why we have an alternate plan should Thomas give us a less than satisfactory report of the day’s events.”
Her pulse racing, Daphne began counting under her breath, the floral bouquet of her cousin’s perfume filling her nostrils and making her head swim. What alternate plan? And how had she been so ignorant of her relations’ involvement in her affairs?
“I don’t suppose it involves you countering Mr. Burnham’s rumors?” Daphne whispered.
Henrietta pulled down the shade and leaned forward. “Heavens no, Daphne. We do not have the clout of a duke.”
Daphne bit down on her bottom lip. Once again she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her, and once again she was feeling the sting of her failure. Had she done a better job of restraining her tongue, perhaps the duke would have assisted her in overcoming the rumors. But with today’s brash behavior and biting remarks, she held little hope of gaining the duke’s favor…and stemming Burnham’s gossip.
Aunt Susan patted Daphne’s leg. “We have been invited to Lady Fairbanks’s musicale tomorrow evening. As her husband is the duke’s second cousin, His Grace is almost always in attendance. You may ask for his assistance then. That is, of course,” her aunt paused, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “only if Thomas’s day did not go as planned.”
…
If there was something Edward hated more than a London ball, it was the strains of an ill-played concerto.
He rather enjoyed the rich tone of the cello and high song of the violin. But to hear them played in a less than harmonious partnership was more than a little disappointing—it was damn near sinful.
And yet, his tone-deaf cousin continued to utilize the services of her three beautiful, if hardly musically inclined, daughters.
Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to stuff a few tufts of cotton into his ears prior to the evening’s “entertainments.” Unfortunately, his mother had seen the damn tufts and had pulled them out of his ears before the first scrape of the cello had been bowed.
It was no small comfort then that, gazing out over the crush of people, he, at the very least, was not the only one about to suffer through the debacle. Westbrook, the foul lout, was sitting in the third row, and staring at…well, damn.
How had he missed her? How had he not seen the radiant burst of light, the pale yellow silk of her gown catching the flickers from the candle and making her look like an extension of the flame itself?
She was beautiful, desirable, and most definitely worthy of his attentions. Hell, just the sight of her had him crossing his legs in a vain attempt to hide his ill-timed arousal. Which made Miss Farrington a delightfully tantalizing temptation. Edward tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes darting to the very edge of his vision. He had only wished to catch a glimpse of those seated beside her, when he noticed her two very blue, and very anxious, eyes staring
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