LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      I would like to dedicate this book to my sister-in-law, Susie. Thanks for being a fan.

       Chapter One

       England—1831

      Her brothers would kill her for this.

      Lady Lucinda Wellingham knew that they would. Of all the hare-brained schemes that she had ever been involved with, this was the most foolish of the lot. She would be ruined and it would be entirely her fault.

      ‘Just a kiss,’ the man whispered, pressing her against a wall in the corridor, the smell of strong liquor on his breath. His hands wandered across the line of her breasts, and in the ridiculously flimsy dress that she had allowed Posy Tompkins to talk her into wearing, Lucinda could feel where his next thoughts lay.

      Richard Allenby, third Earl of Halsey, had been attractive at London society balls, but here at a country party in Bedfordshire he was intolerably cloying. Pushing him away, she stood up straight, pleased that her height allowed her a good few inches above his own.

      ‘I think, sir, that you have somehow got the wrong idea about my wish to…’

      The words were cut off as his lips covered hers, a wet, limp kiss that made her turn her head away quickly before wiping her mouth. Goodness, the man was almost panting and it did not suit him at all.

      ‘You are here at the most infamous party of the Season and my room isn’t far.’ His fingers closed across her forearm as he hailed two others who looked to have had as much to drink as he had. Both leered at her in the very same way that Halsey was. A mistake. She should have fled moments ago when the chance had been hers and the bedrooms had not been so perilously close. In this den of iniquity it seemed anything went, the morals of the man whose house it was fallen beyond all redemption.

      A spike of fear brought her elbow against the wall, loosening Halsey’s fingers and allowing a hard-won freedom which she took the chance on and ran.

      Twisted and narrow corridors lay before her. There were close to twenty bedchambers on this floor alone and, moving quickly, Lucinda discovered double doors at the very end. With the corners she had taken she was certain those following would not see which door she had chanced upon and without a backward glance she turned an ornate ivory handle and slipped into the room.

      It was dark inside save for a candle burning next to the bed, where a man sat reading, thick-rimmed glasses balanced on the end of his nose.

      When he looked up she placed one finger to her lips, asking for his silence before turning back to the door. Outside she could hear the noise of those who followed her, the uncertainty of where she was adding to their urgency. Surely they would not dare to try their luck with any number of closed doors? A good few minutes passed, the whispers becoming less audible, and then they were gone, retracing their steps in the quest for the escaped quarry and ruing the loss of a night’s entertainment. Relief filled her.

      ‘Can I speak now?’ The voice was laconic and deep, an inflection of something on the edge that Lucinda could not understand.

      ‘If you are very quiet, I think it might be safe.’ She looked around uncertainly.

      A ripe swear word was her only answer and as the sheets were pushed back Lucinda saw the naked form of a man unfold from within them and her mouth gaped open. Not just any man either, but the scandalous host of this weekend’s licentiousness: Taylen Ellesmere, the Sixth Duke of Alderworth. The Dissolute Duke, they called him, a rakehell who obeyed no laws of morality with his wanton disregard of any manners and his degenerate ways.

      He was wearing absolutely nothing as he ambled across to the door behind her and locked it. The sound seared into Lucinda’s brain, but she found she could not even move a muscle.

      He was beautiful. At least he was that, his dark hair falling to his shoulders and eyes the colour of wet leaves after a forest storm at Falder. She did not glance below the line of his neck, though every fibre of her being seemed to want her to. His smile said that he knew her thought, the creases around his eyes falling into humour.

      ‘Lady Lucinda Wellingham?’

      He knew her name. She nodded, trying to find her voice. What might happen next? She felt like a chicken in a fox’s lair.

      ‘Do your three brothers know that you are here?’

      Her shake of the head was tempered by a lack of breath that indicated panic and she could barely take in air. Every single thing had gone wrong since dawn,

Скачать книгу