Read Online The Spinster and the Duke by Jillian Eaton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jillian Eaton
Ads: Link
wing. Inside everything was covered with dust and drop cloths, but natural light abounded, streaming in through the oversized windows.
He imagined Abby sitting in the parlor reading one of her beloved books, her face bathed in sunlight and the faintest of smiles curving her mouth. Her hair would be loose around her shoulders and he would walk up behind her and tangle his fingers in the soft, silky ends before gently drawing her head back for a kiss.
Their tongues would entwine, their hearts racing in tandem. His hands would cup her breasts, his thumbs circling leisurely around her hard nipples. When she clung to his shoulders and sighed against his neck he would carry her upstairs to their room and they would slowly undress each other, taking pleasure in exposing their bodies a bit at a time. The sun would dapple across her ivory skin as he laid her down on the bed, creating dancing prisms of light he chased with his mouth.
She would moan his name as he pleasured her, and when they finally came together he would close his eyes with the certainty that this was what heaven felt like.
It was a perfect image and one Reginald would have turned into reality in a heartbeat… if he knew where Abigail was.
He’d arrived at her townhouse with flowers in hand and a perfect speech in mind, ready and willing to lay his heart at her feet. When a maid answered the door and informed him Miss Abigail was out of town he felt as though someone had landed a sucker punch to the side of his face, so unexpected was the news of her departure.
“She’s gone? Are you quite certain?” he asked the maid, a plump young woman with rosy cheeks and brown eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Yes,” she said shortly before she began to close the door. Reginald stopped it with his boot and the maid crossed her arms. “Miss Abigail did not say she was expectin’ any visitors before she left. Who are ye and what do ye want?”
Reginald tugged at the side of his cravat. “I am… an old acquaintance.” It was, he supposed, the best way to sum up their relationship as any. At present they were neither lovers nor, he feared, even friends. When last they met Abigail had been openly hostile, not that he could blame her, and he had certainly not won himself any favors by stumbling over his own tongue and breaking her table. “I paid her a visit just last week. Do you know when she left?”
“So you were the one who put her into a tizzy and sent her off in a rush.” The maid moved to close the door again. Reginald wedged his entire leg in the doorway. “Step off,” she demanded, her face settling in a scowl. “Anyone who could upset Miss Abigail as much as you is not welcome here and besides, I told you she—”
“Went out of town,” Reginald interrupted. “Yes, I heard you the first time.” He was ill accustomed to being treated with such disrespect by a servant, but he expected no less from one of Abby’s employees.
When they’d been young she had been the one who insisted he learn not only the names of every staff member in his household, but their likes and dislikes as well. ‘ Treat them as you would like to be treated ’ she used to be fond of saying, ‘ and they will do the same not because they have to, but because they want to ’. He was glad to see her opinions had not changed with time, even if it meant dealing with an impertinent maid.
“Do you know where she went?” he asked with forced patience.
“To the country. Sussex, I believe. Or was it Hampshire? I am afraid I do not recall.”
“Perhaps this will help your memory.” Fishing through the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out three sovereigns and held back a smile when the maid’s eyes doubled in size.
“Now that I think of it,” she said hastily, “I believe she went to Sussex to visit a friend of her niece’s. Lady Charlotte Graystone, I believe it was.”
Reginald extended his arm and dropped the gold coins into the maid’s outstretched arm. She
He imagined Abby sitting in the parlor reading one of her beloved books, her face bathed in sunlight and the faintest of smiles curving her mouth. Her hair would be loose around her shoulders and he would walk up behind her and tangle his fingers in the soft, silky ends before gently drawing her head back for a kiss.
Their tongues would entwine, their hearts racing in tandem. His hands would cup her breasts, his thumbs circling leisurely around her hard nipples. When she clung to his shoulders and sighed against his neck he would carry her upstairs to their room and they would slowly undress each other, taking pleasure in exposing their bodies a bit at a time. The sun would dapple across her ivory skin as he laid her down on the bed, creating dancing prisms of light he chased with his mouth.
She would moan his name as he pleasured her, and when they finally came together he would close his eyes with the certainty that this was what heaven felt like.
It was a perfect image and one Reginald would have turned into reality in a heartbeat… if he knew where Abigail was.
He’d arrived at her townhouse with flowers in hand and a perfect speech in mind, ready and willing to lay his heart at her feet. When a maid answered the door and informed him Miss Abigail was out of town he felt as though someone had landed a sucker punch to the side of his face, so unexpected was the news of her departure.
“She’s gone? Are you quite certain?” he asked the maid, a plump young woman with rosy cheeks and brown eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Yes,” she said shortly before she began to close the door. Reginald stopped it with his boot and the maid crossed her arms. “Miss Abigail did not say she was expectin’ any visitors before she left. Who are ye and what do ye want?”
Reginald tugged at the side of his cravat. “I am… an old acquaintance.” It was, he supposed, the best way to sum up their relationship as any. At present they were neither lovers nor, he feared, even friends. When last they met Abigail had been openly hostile, not that he could blame her, and he had certainly not won himself any favors by stumbling over his own tongue and breaking her table. “I paid her a visit just last week. Do you know when she left?”
“So you were the one who put her into a tizzy and sent her off in a rush.” The maid moved to close the door again. Reginald wedged his entire leg in the doorway. “Step off,” she demanded, her face settling in a scowl. “Anyone who could upset Miss Abigail as much as you is not welcome here and besides, I told you she—”
“Went out of town,” Reginald interrupted. “Yes, I heard you the first time.” He was ill accustomed to being treated with such disrespect by a servant, but he expected no less from one of Abby’s employees.
When they’d been young she had been the one who insisted he learn not only the names of every staff member in his household, but their likes and dislikes as well. ‘ Treat them as you would like to be treated ’ she used to be fond of saying, ‘ and they will do the same not because they have to, but because they want to ’. He was glad to see her opinions had not changed with time, even if it meant dealing with an impertinent maid.
“Do you know where she went?” he asked with forced patience.
“To the country. Sussex, I believe. Or was it Hampshire? I am afraid I do not recall.”
“Perhaps this will help your memory.” Fishing through the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out three sovereigns and held back a smile when the maid’s eyes doubled in size.
“Now that I think of it,” she said hastily, “I believe she went to Sussex to visit a friend of her niece’s. Lady Charlotte Graystone, I believe it was.”
Reginald extended his arm and dropped the gold coins into the maid’s outstretched arm. She
Similar Books
