Read Online The Duke's Reform by Fenella J Miller - Free Book Online

she encountered any
of the inebriated gentlemen within. A footman stepped out and bowed.
          'Is the duke in
his study?'
          'I believe him
to be in the billiard room, your grace.'
          Botheration! She
could hardly go there to speak to him, she had better write him a note and
leave this in his dressing-room. Hopefully he would not be so foxed he could
not read it when he retired. She was about to return when a gentleman holding
two glasses of wine staggered out from the drawing-room.
          'Your grace,
have a drink with me. We missed your lovely presence this evening.' He wove his
way towards her. She could not get past him. Several other guests appeared in
the doorway to watch the confrontation.
          'Thank you, sir,
but I’ve no wish for a glass. If you’ll kindly allow me to pass, I wish to
return to my apartments.'
          He leered at her
and thrust one of the glasses into her hand; she had no option but to take it
or allow it to smash onto the tiles. She waited, her
expression icy, for him to move. To her horror he lurched forward and with his
free hand attempted to touch her face. Her reaction was instinctive. She flung
the glass of wine into his face. This was enough to stop him momentarily.
Dodging past the spluttering gentleman she shot up the stairs before he could
do her more harm. The whoops and cheers that followed made her fear they would
decide to give chase.
          Breathless she
tumbled into her sitting room and for the first time since she had arrived here
she locked the doors behind her. She rang for her maid, the sooner she was
safely in her bed the better. 'I shan't require you again this evening,
Cranford.'
           She
settled back with the latest novel from Hatchards and
became immersed in her romance and quite forgot that she had left her external
doors locked.
    ****
    Alexander heard the shouting and came to
investigate. According to his cronies Isobel had thrown a glass of wine over
Bartram for no other reason than that he had failed to move aside quickly
enough to please her.
          This was
unacceptable behaviour . He'd already had to smooth
the ruffled feathers of his housekeeper because of her incivility. Tonight he
would make it clear to her he would not tolerate breaches of etiquette.
          His head was
thumping— he couldn't recall exactly how many bottles of claret he'd drunk over
dinner or how much brandy he'd consumed since then. Drink numbed the senses,
dulled his disappointment with his wife, and helped him to accept that he would
never have another child to cherish. He paused, leaning his burning face
against the wall for a moment. He closed his eyes expecting to see an image of
his beloved Eleanor, instead a picture of Isobel
filled his mind. He rubbed his eyes angrily. No—he would not let her creep into
his heart. He had no room for love in his life.
          He tried her parlour door. He rattled, but it refused to budge. This
door was never locked, it must be jammed for some
reason. He walked along the passageway and tried to enter Isobel's bed chamber.
This door also did not move. Furious he hammered on the panel. He would not be
denied entry to any room in his own house.
          He heard the
patter of bare feet told on the boards. What was the matter with her? Did she
not have a maid to do these things? The key turned but the door was not opened.
At least his wife had the sense not to appear in the passageway in her night
clothes. He stepped in and glared at the young woman who was staring nervously
from beneath the bed covers.
          'Alexander, I
came down to tell you that I am not available this week.'
          God's teeth!
Is that why she thought he was here? He felt a flicker of remorse that this
lovely young woman was reduced to hiding in her bedchamber in her own home. 'I
know that, I am not a simpleton. I am quite able to keep note of the date. I
came here to discuss the matter of