Read Online The Seduction of a Duke by Donna MacMeans - Free Book Online
Authors: Donna MacMeans
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safely behind him, she stepped around his restraining arm and moved to his side. When his lips opened to speak, she placed her fingertips to still his words, and yes, perhaps lingered a bit longer than necessary. She would have liked to have felt the pressure of those lips, just once. Perhaps once this was all over . . .
His eyebrow rose in that endearing fashion, pulling her answering smile before she turned to face her mother’s ensemble.
The Duke and Mary stood behind Maman. The family attorney, Mr. Whitby, was aligned to the Duke’s left. Her father and Mrs. Kravitz joined the group a moment later along with other curious guests, providing a rather satisfying audience. Normally, such a gathering would intimidate her into nausea, but not tonight.
Tonight, the crowd provided only a mild tinge of discomfort. With their presence, there could be no doubt as to the scandal and thus no better assurance of being released from this pledge. Fran’s gaze skipped to the bewildered Duke standing behind Maman, disappointed that he didn’t look more annoyed. She had hoped he’d be angry at her indiscretion. Could he truly value her dowry more than his pride?
“Your Grace,” Fran said, holding the folds of her costume out to the side as she executed an elegant curtsy.
“Your Grace,” her mother intervened, “allow me to introduce my real daughter, Miss Francesca Winthrop.” She turned back to Fran. “I suppose you had some purpose for this foolish dalliance with this . . . this . . .” Although Alva’s head bobbed at least six inches beneath the stranger’s, Alva still managed to look down her nose at him. “Ne’er-do-well.”
A disgusted look crossed the young Duke’s face as he stepped around her mother. Fearing that the Duke might harm the duped stranger in defense of her honor, Fran held her hand up in restraint.
“Please, Your Grace. No one would cast blame if you wished to call off the engagement—”
“Francesca!” her mother gasped.
Fran swallowed the panic induced by the growing audience. She had to see this through to the conclusion—then she could hide from the crowd. She stepped in front of the Duke so she could address him directly.
“Your reputation must remain above scandal. As you can see by my actions, I am not suitable to be your duchess. Nothing has been announced; the taint on my honor would be slight.”
No doubt Maman would send her overseas just to be rid of her, Fran thought with an inward smile. She could continue her studies alone and in peace. The more she contemplated that alternative, the more she was convinced that her actions had been just. Finally, the future she longed for, one of simplicity and solitude—no fancy balls, no crowds of endless faces. She was almost grateful to the Duke for providing this opportunity.
“There shall be no need of that.” The stranger’s voice, so deep and rich and close, sent a quiver through her chest, or perhaps it was his ominous tone. Either way, she didn’t need or want the stranger’s interference. Her plan had worked perfectly so far.
“This does not involve you,” Fran murmured. “I’m afraid you’ve been a bit of a pawn.”
“On the contrary, it most certainly does involve me,” he said with that damnable quirked eyebrow that nearly touched his hairline.
“Allow me to make the introductions,” the young Duke stepped forward with a wide grin.
“Miss Francesca Winthrop, I wish to present Duke Ne’er do-well, the ninth Duke of Bedford.”
Her mother gasped. Fran turned on her heel and said in a low accusation, “You tricked me.”
“It would appear we are well suited.” His eyes smoldered with a fire that quickened her pulse and induced the mild panic that hitherto had been the prerogative of a crowd, not an individual. The intonation in his voice reminded her that she had endeavored to trick him as he had her. A jolt of realization chilled her spine. Perhaps in this man, she had met her match.
He raised his
His eyebrow rose in that endearing fashion, pulling her answering smile before she turned to face her mother’s ensemble.
The Duke and Mary stood behind Maman. The family attorney, Mr. Whitby, was aligned to the Duke’s left. Her father and Mrs. Kravitz joined the group a moment later along with other curious guests, providing a rather satisfying audience. Normally, such a gathering would intimidate her into nausea, but not tonight.
Tonight, the crowd provided only a mild tinge of discomfort. With their presence, there could be no doubt as to the scandal and thus no better assurance of being released from this pledge. Fran’s gaze skipped to the bewildered Duke standing behind Maman, disappointed that he didn’t look more annoyed. She had hoped he’d be angry at her indiscretion. Could he truly value her dowry more than his pride?
“Your Grace,” Fran said, holding the folds of her costume out to the side as she executed an elegant curtsy.
“Your Grace,” her mother intervened, “allow me to introduce my real daughter, Miss Francesca Winthrop.” She turned back to Fran. “I suppose you had some purpose for this foolish dalliance with this . . . this . . .” Although Alva’s head bobbed at least six inches beneath the stranger’s, Alva still managed to look down her nose at him. “Ne’er-do-well.”
A disgusted look crossed the young Duke’s face as he stepped around her mother. Fearing that the Duke might harm the duped stranger in defense of her honor, Fran held her hand up in restraint.
“Please, Your Grace. No one would cast blame if you wished to call off the engagement—”
“Francesca!” her mother gasped.
Fran swallowed the panic induced by the growing audience. She had to see this through to the conclusion—then she could hide from the crowd. She stepped in front of the Duke so she could address him directly.
“Your reputation must remain above scandal. As you can see by my actions, I am not suitable to be your duchess. Nothing has been announced; the taint on my honor would be slight.”
No doubt Maman would send her overseas just to be rid of her, Fran thought with an inward smile. She could continue her studies alone and in peace. The more she contemplated that alternative, the more she was convinced that her actions had been just. Finally, the future she longed for, one of simplicity and solitude—no fancy balls, no crowds of endless faces. She was almost grateful to the Duke for providing this opportunity.
“There shall be no need of that.” The stranger’s voice, so deep and rich and close, sent a quiver through her chest, or perhaps it was his ominous tone. Either way, she didn’t need or want the stranger’s interference. Her plan had worked perfectly so far.
“This does not involve you,” Fran murmured. “I’m afraid you’ve been a bit of a pawn.”
“On the contrary, it most certainly does involve me,” he said with that damnable quirked eyebrow that nearly touched his hairline.
“Allow me to make the introductions,” the young Duke stepped forward with a wide grin.
“Miss Francesca Winthrop, I wish to present Duke Ne’er do-well, the ninth Duke of Bedford.”
Her mother gasped. Fran turned on her heel and said in a low accusation, “You tricked me.”
“It would appear we are well suited.” His eyes smoldered with a fire that quickened her pulse and induced the mild panic that hitherto had been the prerogative of a crowd, not an individual. The intonation in his voice reminded her that she had endeavored to trick him as he had her. A jolt of realization chilled her spine. Perhaps in this man, she had met her match.
He raised his
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