Isidore has
been waiting for her husband to return from his travels for years. She’s
tired of being a virgin wife, tired of living on the Continent, tired
of watching her friends have children while she dances the night away.
You met her in Duchess by Night…you know that her plan
to create a scandal, forcing her husband to return, worked. The
duke returned. But Isidore forgot that old saying:
Be careful what you wish for!
Isidore went utterly rigid, and made a little sound of distress. The man was inside now, but his back to them. He was huge, wrapped in a greatcoat and an enormous fur hat.
“I have to go upstairs,” Isidore breathed.
“Too late,” Harriet said, stopping her. “He’ll
see you on the stairs.”
It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. The greatcoat was gone, and the hat was gone. Harriet had hardly time to see a great tumble of inky black hair, unpowdered and not even tied back, before he turned.
Her first thought was that the duke couldn’t be English. She’d never seen an Englishman that color – a sort of gorgeous mahogany. He wore a jacket that Villiers would envy, made of pale blue but he didn’t
have it buttoned in the front, as was proper. She could see brown skin,
right down below his throat. Where was his cravat? He wore no waistcoat.
Long white cuffs tumbled over his hands, but rather than have them
caught at the wrist by a pearl button, he wore them open. He was half
dressed.
There was a moment of utter silence in the anteroom. The duke was looking only at Isidore.
He swept into an extraordinarily deep bow. Her eyes fixed on his face, Isidore sank into a deep curtsey. Still without saying a word, she held out her hand.
“My duchess, I presume,” he said, carrying the hand up to his lips.
|
Order from Amazon
