Read Online The Painted Lady by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page B

next floor, he asked, “Who is Frederick Spires?”
    And Uncle thought he was a gentleman! A man of honor would have revealed his presence, or left the room, or shut the window. Instead, the duke had listened to every word Lilyanne and her uncle had spoken, every damning, impolite word. Thank goodness the cad was behind her on the stairs and could not see her flaming cheeks. “He is no one of any import,” she lied. Lilyanne had been terrified for weeks after the attack.
    “Did he hurt you? I will call him out.”
    “You cannot, for his family shipped him off to the former colonies.”
    “Where you are undoubtedly wishing me at this very moment.”
    Lilyanne could not insult a guest under her roof, especially not one who was paying for the privilege, and not more than she already had, at any rate, so she did not answer. “Here is your room, Your Grace. A servant will be in to assist you.”
    “That would not be Little Henry, would it? I really do not require a keeper, you know.”
    His voice sounded almost sad to Lilyanne’s ears, reminding her that whatever else he might be, the duke was a troubled soul in search of help. In gentler tones she told him, “Uncle’s valet Cosgrove will be the one serving you. Little Henry is our gardener’s son. They live at the old gatehouse.”
    “I see.” He brushed past her through the doorway, then he walked around the room, touching the mattress, shutting the window, reading the sampler hanging over the washstand. When Lilyanne would have turned to go, he stopped her with another question. “Do you wish me to leave, Miss Bannister?”
    “I... I must apologize for any words you might have overheard.”
    “That does not answer my question.”
    “My uncle would be devastated.”
    “That is still no answer. Do you want me gone? I would not wish you a moment’s unease.”
    Lilyanne did not know how to reply. She considered herself an honest person, yet dealing with Uncle’s patients had taught her diplomacy. Was this the time for tact, or for the truth? Her hesitation must have been answer enough, for the duke stepped toward her, not close enough to be threatening, but near enough to look into her eyes. “I swear to you, miss, that I would never hurt you. I might be somewhat befuddled at present, but I have never forced myself on a woman in my life.”
    At such short range, Lilyanne could not help but be aware of the gentleman’s scent, all lemon and leather and horse, his impressive height, and vibrant blue-green eyes. “You likely never needed to,” she muttered to herself.
    “I am sorry. I didn’t catch your words.”
    Somewhere between delicate diplomacy and directness, Lilyanne’s tongue had settled on dumb. She blushed once more, beginning to fear that she was coming down with a fever, her cheeks were so constantly warm. She stared at her toes, rather than at Caswell’s firm lips and tousled blond curls.
    “Furthermore, I swear that I will never try to seduce you, unless you are willing, of course.”
    Lilyanne gasped, and the rogue smiled, showing dimples. “Only a rake would say such a thing!”
    “If you think of a rake as a malicious collector of broken hearts or broken maidenheads, no, I am no rake. I do admire women, however, with a man’s appreciation and appetites. I see no reason not to appease those appetites until I marry, when the ladies are willing.”
    “I am not willing!” she squeaked, appalled at the shrillness in her voice. Uncle would not approve.
    “Not even a little?” Kasey teased, just to see those bright spots of color on the little wren’s soft cheeks. “You are certain there is no way on earth you are going to let yourself be seduced by a scoundrel like me?”
    “None. Never.”
    “Ah, that is too bad, for now I might have to withdraw my vow not to try. It’s the challenge, you see, a rogue’s honor and all that.” He reached out and touched her cheek for one brief, butterfly instant. “Never say never to a rake, Miss