Read Online The Tattooed Duke by Maya Rodale - Free Book Online

goodness,” Julianna murmured. Her lips curved into a delightfully wicked smile.
    “Indeed,” Sophie agreed in the same tone, and then she admonished her sister-in-law: “Charlotte, close your eyes.”
    “Good Lord above,” Annabelle whispered, fanning herself furiously.
    “That is nothing compared to Wycliff,” Eliza remarked truthfully, as she walked away from the statue and moved on to the next, leaving stunned companions in her wake.
    It was a far cry from their usual Sunday afternoon activity: lolling about sipping tea and flipping through issues of La Belle Assemblée . Eliza knew it was vexing for Annabelle to see all those gorgeous dresses that she could not afford nor had occasion to wear. She felt the same.
    After her week of hard labor, she wouldn’t have minded slouching on a settee, being served tea and cookies, and idly gossiping. Though she had to admit, gaping at nude male statues wasn’t altogether bad.
    “I thought it would be pottery,” Annabelle said. Her cheeks were bright pink.
    “Over here,” Sophie indicated. They all crossed the room to admire the pottery. Which, of course, had nude men chasing after nude women. And lutes.
    “Who knew pottery could be so interesting?” Lady Charlotte mused. “And who knew the ancients were so . . . naked .”
    “Charlotte!” Sophie hissed.
    “Oh, when did you become such a stick in the mud, Sophie?” Julianna asked.
    “Since I became responsible for the virtue of a young trouble-prone lady,” Sophie muttered.
    “Imagine if we adopted this tendency toward nudity,” Lady Charlotte carried on.
    Annabelle blushed furiously. Eliza’s face also took on a pinkish hue. Every image of an undressed male brought Wycliff to mind. He was so much more impressive than this collection of marble men. And that wasn’t even considering his tattoos, which made him so much more forbidden and wicked.
    “Pray tell, Eliza, what has your cheeks burning?” Julianna prodded. That was the vexing thing about having a particularly observant friend.
    “Oh, you know,” Eliza said airily. She couldn’t quite say it aloud. But could it be anything else?
    “The duke. You must be smitten,” Sophie said, grinning.
    “Of course she is, if he is anything like how he used to be,” Julianna added. “And, naturally, given how he is reputed to be of late.”
    “What had he been like before?” Eliza asked. It was a fair question; any reporter ought to inquire about her subject’s past. She just happened to be interested for her own reasons as well.
    Julianna explained in a hushed but excited tone: “Well, all the Dukes of Wycliff were utterly wicked and notorious rakes. Ballroom legend has it that no Duke of Wycliff has ever been reformed. They have married—and they tend to pledge their troth to the most stern and strict women, oddly enough—and they have produced heirs, but none has ever surrendered his wicked ways.”
    “Doesn’t that sound like a challenge ?” Lady Charlotte asked. “A delicious, tempting, splendid challenge?”
    “No, Charlotte, it does not. At least not for you,” Sophie admonished.
    Eliza wasn’t thinking of reforming him. No, her thoughts strayed to matters far less noble and much more wicked.
    Wycliff hadn’t knocked on her door last night, as he warned he might. Would she have answered if he had? She felt a shiver of danger, because she would have opened the door—and not for the story.
    “The duke mentioned an altercation with Lady Shackley,” Eliza began as the group strolled through the galleries, idly gazing at more nude statues and pottery. She couldn’t ask Wycliff about the slap heard ’round the ballroom, but she could ask Julianna.
    “Oh, that was thrilling,” Lady Charlotte gushed.
    “Did he mention it to you?” Julianna asked. “Are you conversing with the duke? Is the duke confiding in you?”
    They were curious. Rightfully so. Dukes and housemaids tupping was one thing; confiding in each other was quite