Read Online The Naked Prince by Sally Mackenzie - Free Book Online

admiration too obviously and noticed something had fallen out of the book she was carrying—a letter she’d apparently been using to mark her place. He stooped to pick it up.
    He frowned. He recognized the handwriting. “This is one of my letters to your father.”
    â€œ Ack! ” She grabbed it and thrust it back in the book. She was even redder than she’d been a moment ago. “Please excuse me. I was just on my way to my room.” She stepped to the side as though she planned to go around him.
    He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Did your father give you my letter?” He hoped she couldn’t hear the hurt in his voice. He’d saved all the letters Mr. Atworthy had sent him, but if the man didn’t value their correspondence the way he did, there was nothing he could do about it. He shouldn’t be surprised or offended. It only made sense that what impressed a man of thirty as significant would seem banal to someone twice that age.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou just took it?” Miss Atworthy hadn’t struck him as someone who had such little consideration for a man’s privacy.
    â€œNo, of course not.” She fidgeted. “I, er, needed a bookmark, and, ah, well . . .” She shrugged.
    Very odd. He would try another subject. “Did he tell you I would be here?”
    Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Of course not. Papa didn’t know you’d be attending this house party.”
    Why would she assume that? “Yes, he did.”
    She shook her head, frowning at him. “No, he didn’t.”
    This conversation was beyond absurd. Certainly she must realize he would know the truth better than she on this subject. “Did a Mr. Flanders not stop to call on your father last week?”
    Her brows met over her nose. “Yes, I believe he did. Is he a short man with reddish hair?”
    â€œYes. He helps with The Classical Gazette. He’s the one who initially puzzled out who J.A. was; since the letters are sent to the Gazette offices, he knew what part of Britain they came from. As he happened to be passing through the area, he thought he should introduce himself. He told me your father was surprised and”—Flanders had said “over the moon,” but that had seemed an exaggeration—“pleased that I’d be in the neighborhood, though doubtful he’d be able to see me. I take it he doesn’t get out much. Is he perhaps an invalid?”
    Miss Atworthy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “not yet” before she pushed past him and fled down the corridor.
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    Jo sat stunned among the women in the morning room, the gentlemen having been relegated to the study, and tried to appear as if nothing was amiss. Sheets of red paper, bits of ribbon and lace, and pots of glue were strewn over the tables. Her hand slipped and she cut the bottom off her paper heart.
    She couldn’t believe it. Papa had known Lord Kenderly would be here. Worse, he must know, after speaking with Mr. Flanders, that she’d been corresponding with the earl for some time.
    Dear God, what must Papa think? Well-bred single women did not write to single men to whom they were not related.
    â€œHow are your valentines coming?” Lady Greyham asked. “You should have everything you need at hand.”
    â€œI don’t have any ideas.” Lady Imogene dropped her scissors, letting them clatter on the table. “I hate making valentines.”
    â€œBut you like getting them, don’t you?” Mrs. Petwell asked as she cut out a large, red heart.
    Lady Imogene shrugged. “I like gifts better. Chocolate and flowers.”
    â€œChocolate and flowers are very pleasant,” Lady Greyham said, “as I tell my dear Lord Greyham every year.”
    â€œYou just need to let yourself have some fun with it, Lady Imogene.” Mrs. Butterwick smiled in a motherly fashion. “See?”