A Belated Bride by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page A

tightly tucked blanket. But somehow his sense of propriety had completely vanished, and along with it, his ability to feel his own feet. Instead, he was innately proud of his attributes and wondered if Arabella would notice.
    Unfortunately, she was too preoccupied with the tray she carried. The silver salver was so heavily loaded, Lucien wondered that she didn’t stagger from the weight. With quick, competent steps, she crossed to the small table by the fire and set the tray on the polished surface with only a slight clink of silver.
    He watched as she adjusted the dishes and removed covers, the light from the window highlighting her hair to warm mahogany. Dressed in a faded frock that would have been in fashion five years ago, she appeared neat and proper. Even the unruly curl of her hair had been tamed, tucked into a tidy bun. Yet the pink of the dress echoed the warm color of her cheeks and lips and made him yearn to touch her.
    He became aware that Aunt Jane was closely watching him. She smiled, clasped her hands together, and announced, “Arabella, allow me to present you to the gen- tleman you rescued last night. His Grace, the Duke of Wexford.”
    Emma nodded vigorously, her iron-gray curls bobbing. “And this, Your Grace, is Arabella Hadley, our lovely, lovely niece.”
    Even swimming in a tonic-induced sea of euphoria, Lucien recognized such a blatant attempt at matchmaking. Normally he would have depressed such presumption, but he was too full of good cheer and all too aware of his nakedness beneath the thin blanket to be prudent. “She is indeed the loveliest of women. Her skin flawless, her eyes exceptionally bright and fine, and her form—”
    “Oh, yes,” Jane interrupted hastily, tucking a stray white curl behind her ear. She gave a nervous laugh when she caught Arabella’s amazed expression. “My! His Grace is certainly pleased to meet you.”
    Arabella’s gaze narrowed on him for a moment. “I think he’s drunk.”
    “Nonsense,” he protested with good humor. “But even if I were, just seeing your beauty would sober me in an instant.” Somehow, that didn’t sound quite as good when said aloud.
    Emma tittered. “Isn’t this lovely? All of us here,
    together.” No one vouched an answer and Aunt Emma’s excitement dimmed as she floundered, “Ah, did Your Grace know that Arabella—”
    “His Grace and I are well acquainted,” Arabella said abruptly.
    “Oh?” Jane fixed him with a stare. “You didn’t mention that.”
    “You didn’t ask,” Lucien pointed out, then smiled sweetly.
    Jane’s eyes narrowed, but she did not reply. Instead, she turned to the tray and began peering beneath the cov- ers of the dishes. “My, what a nice hot luncheon.”
    “I thought you would be hungry, having spent all day playing nursemaid.” Arabella encompassed her aunts with a smile that left Lucien feeling slighted.
    Emma blinked behind her spectacles. “But there are only two plates here. What about the duke? What did you bring him?”
    “Cook is making some gruel. Once His Grace has had his fill, I am sure he will wish to be on his way.”
    Somewhere in the back of Lucien’s mind, an elusive thought skittered into sight before it drowned in the tonic’s fumes. Arabella was right: There was a reason he should wish to be gone—but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. “I hate gruel,” Lucien announced.
    “Then leave,” Arabella said. “I hear the Golden Lion has an excellent board. Shall I lend you a horse?”
    To Lucien’s intense pleasure, Aunt Jane immediately protested, “Arabella Hadley! The duke is our guest!”
    “And you cannot send a duke to a common inn!” Emma added, tsk ing loudly.
    Lucien could have kissed them both. Sad as it was, Arabella’s aunts appeared to be his only friends. He
    wanted to publicly declare his gratitude for their champi- oning, but to his intense dismay, he discovered that his tongue was getting more numb by the second. He