Read Online The Lost Duke of Wyndham by Julia Quinn - Free Book Online Page B

maybe—
    The hood came off, and he took a moment to savor the cool air on his face.
    Then he looked at her.
    It was mortification. That’s what it had been. Poor Miss Eversleigh looked miserable. A more gracious gentleman would have turned away, but he wasn’t feeling overly charitable at the moment, and so he treated himself to a lengthy perusal of her face. She was lovely, although not in any predictable manner. No English rose was she, not with that glorious dark hair and shining blue eyes that tilted up ever-so-slightly at the edges. Her lashes were dark and sooty, in stark contrast to the pale perfection of her skin.
    Of course, that paleness might have been a result of her extreme discomfort. The poor girl looked as if she might cast up her accounts at any moment.
    â€œWas it that bad, kissing me?” he murmured.
    She turned scarlet.
    â€œApparently so.” He turned to his grandmother and said in his most conversational tone, “I hope you realize this is a hanging offense.”
    â€œI am the Duchess of Wyndham,” she replied with a haughty lift of her brow. “Nothing is a hanging offense.”
    â€œAh, the unfairness of life,” he said with a sigh. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Eversleigh?”
    She looked as if she wanted to speak. Indeed, the poor girl was most definitely biting her tongue.
    â€œNow if you were the perpetrator in this little crime,” he continued, allowing his eyes to slide insolently from her face to her bosom and back, “this would all be so very different.”
    Her jaw tightened.
    â€œIt would be,” he murmured, allowing his gaze to fall to her lips, “rather lovely, I think. Just think—you, me, alone in this exceedingly luxurious carriage.” He sighed contentedly and sat back. “The imagination runs wild.”
    He waited for the old lady to defend her. She did not.
    â€œCare to share your plans for me?” he asked, propping one ankle over the opposite knee as he slouched in his seat. It wasn’t an easy position to achieve, with his hands still stuck behind him, but he was damned if he’d sit up straight and polite.
    The old lady turned to him, her lips pinched. “Most men would not complain.”
    He shrugged. “I am not most men.” Then he offered a half smile and turned to Miss Eversleigh. “A rather banal rejoinder on my part, wouldn’t you say? So obvious. A novice could have come up with it.” He shook his head as if disappointed. “I do hope I’m not losing my touch.”
    Her eyes widened.
    He grinned. “You think I’m mad.”
    â€œOh, yes,” she said, and he rather enjoyed her voice again, washing warmly over him.
    â€œIt’s something to consider.” He turned to the old lady. “Does madness run in the family?”
    â€œOf course not,” she snapped.
    â€œWell, that’s a relief. Not,” he added, “that I am acknowledging a connection. I don’t believe I wish to be associated with cutthroats such as yourself. Tsk tsk. Even I have never resorted to kidnapping.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a very grave confidence to Miss Eversleigh. “It’s very bad form, you know.”
    And he thought—oh, how lovely —that he saw her lips twitch. Miss Eversleigh had a sense of humor. She was growing more delectable by the second.
    He smiled at her. He knew how to do it, too. He knew exactly how to smile at a woman to make her feel it deep inside.
    He smiled at her. And she blushed.
    Which made him smile even more.
    â€œEnough,” the old lady snapped.
    He feigned innocence. “Of what?”
    He looked at her, at this woman who was mostprobably his grandmother. Her face was pinched and lined, the corners of her mouth pulled down by the weight of an eternal frown. She’d look unhappy even if she smiled, he thought. Even if somehow she managed to get that mouth to form a crescent in