Along Came a Duke by Elizabeth Boyle Read Free Book Online Page B

well-connected prospect that Lady Randall had her heart set on,” Aunt Hen complained, refilling her brother’s cup of tea and adding the two lumps of sugar he liked in it.
    â€œWasn’t Michaels a knight?” he prodded, referring to Hen’s second husband.
    â€œA baron,” she corrected.
    â€œSame difference,” Lord Henry muttered, for he hadn’t been in favor of his sister’s impetuous marriage to a man whose elevation had been so recent that there had hardly been time to let the ink dry on the Letters Patent.
    â€œAs it is, Lady Randall is going to have a terrible time when she tries to bring out her other daughters,” Hen said, steering the conversation back to the subject at hand.
    â€œThen Lady Randall ought to have kept a better eye on that minx,” Preston told them. “And I will note I wasn’t the first one into that pasture. The gel knew exactly what she was doing. Damn near had my breeches open before I could—”
    â€œOh good heavens!” Hen sputtered. “I don’t think that needs to be repeated.”
    â€œWell, she did,” he told them. “Mayhap I did let slip I was going out for a cigar, but I can hardly be responsible if she is hen-witted enough to follow. Or offer to show me what she learned at school.” He glanced over at Hen. “Imagine my surprise to discover the girl’s lessons included a variety of courtesan’s tricks. Is that what they teach in Bath? I thought the order of the day was dancing and poetry. Or have we men been mistaken all these years about the curriculum of a Bath education?”
    Aunt Hen, who had spent three years at Lady Emery’s, rolled her gaze upwards. “I hardly think what a girl learns in finishing school is the point.”
    Henry, who had no desire to know what “tricks” his sister might have learned in her time in Bath, pulled the conversation back on point. “I can’t go over to White’s these days without being buttonholed by yet another aggrieved father or brother who claims you’ve slighted some female member of their family.”
    Preston huffed a grand, exasperated sigh and threw up his hands. “Now I’m responsible for the maidenhead of every young lady in London?”
    â€œThis,” Hen said, “is getting us nowhere. Those names are what we are here to discuss.” Taking the note out of her brother’s grasp, she handed the slip of paper over to Preston with her usual determination and leaving him no means to object. There just was no refusing Hen when she set her mind to a subject.
    Hence the three husbands.
    Reluctantly, Preston accepted her proposal and took a glance at it. The first name sounded vaguely familiar in a dull sort of way, but before he had a moment to put a face to the memory, Hen continued, “These ladies are not to be kissed. Not to be ruined. Nor to lure to some secluded alcove—”
    A direct reference to Lady Violet. And in his defense, that chit had caught him by the arm and hauled him behind that curtain. Last time he’d turn his back on some country miss. That one had possessed the grasp of a plowhand.
    â€œâ€”but to court . With the intent of marrying one of them.” Hen settled back in her seat and smiled at Preston, then at her brother.
    For they both knew that once Hen had Preston married off, she’d set her cap on seeing Henry settled as well. She’d always held that her position as the eldest of the three gave her license to rule over her brother and nephew.
    It had been that way since the day she’d taken her first step and lisped her first “mine.”
    The duke sighed. “And if I refuse?”
    Then to his surprise, it was Henry who answered. “We’ll move out.”
    Preston glanced over at the man who was more a brother than an uncle. “Leave?”
    â€œYes,” Hen said, with all the determination of a Seldon. She had