Beguiling the Beauty by Sherry Thomas Read Free Book Online Page A

hat and set the driving hat on her head. The effect was that of being plunked down inside a fog—not a London pea souper, but the kind of fog she encountered on early morning walks in the country, like smoke flowing on the ground.
     
    The bustle outside Grand Central Station receded. Barnes cranked the engine, climbed onto his seat, and released the brake. The now dreamlike streets of Manhattan glided by outside Venetia’s translucent cocoon, the colors muted, the buildings smudged at the edges, the passersby blurred in ways that might intrigue modern artists.
     
    Would that she traveled through her entire life at such a remove, protected from its pitfalls and upheavals.
     
    They drove for a mile or so before the automobile came to a stop. “Here’s your hotel, Mrs. Easterbrook. All seventeen stories of it,” said Barnes proudly. “Ain’t it grand? All electric, too—and a telephone in each room.”
     
    The hotel was indeed very tall, dwarfing its neighbors.
     
    “Very impr—”
     
    Venetia froze. Striding down the street toward her, tall, haughty, and impeccably turned out, was none other than the Duke of Lexington. He cast a cursory glance at the automobile and headed inside the hotel.
     
    Her
hotel. What was he doing here?
     
    Her first instinct was to run. She would lodge elsewhere—she didn’t need seventeen stories or a telephone receiver in her room. She had not escaped to New York to be under the same roof as her nemesis.
     
    But a perverse pride refused to let her make the request to Barnes. She squared her shoulders. “Very impressive. I’m sure I will enjoy my stay.”
     
    If anyone ought to run in the opposite direction, it was he, not she. She had not slandered anyone. She had not spread malicious rumors. She had not spoken without regard to consequences.
     
    A doorman materialized to help her down. The hotel’s porters came to receive her luggage. She declined Barnes’soffer to speak for a room for her, tipped him, and bid him good day.
     
    Not until she was crossing the onyx-and-marble rotunda of the hotel did she realize she was still fully veiled. The dim interior made it more difficult to see, but she was far from blind. She arrived at the hotel clerk’s station without mishap.
     
    The hotel clerk blinked once at her appearance. “Good afternoon, ma’am. May I help you?”
     
    Before she could reply, another clerk several feet down the counter offered a greeting of his own. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
     
    She froze again.
     
    “Any news on my passage?” came Lexington’s cool voice.
     
    “Indeed, sir. We have secured you a Victoria suite on the
Rhodesia
. There are only two such suites on the liner, and you will be assured of the greatest comfort, privacy, and luxury for your crossing.”
     
    “Departure time?”
     
    “Tomorrow morning at ten, sir.”
     
    “Very good,” said Lexington.
     
    “Ma’am, may I help you?” Venetia’s clerk asked again.
     
    Unless she abruptly abandoned the counter, she must speak and, at some point, give her name. She cleared her throat—and out came a string of German. “Ich hätte gerne Ihre besten Zimmer.”
     
    She was running away after all. She balled her fingers, the chaos inside her igniting into anger.
     
    “Beg your pardon, ma’am?”
     
    Through gritted teeth, she repeated herself.
     
    The clerk looked flustered. Without turning, without ever having appeared to pay attention, Lexington said, “The lady would like your best rooms.”
     
    “Ah yes, of course. Your name, please, ma’am.”
     
    She swallowed and reached randomly. “
Baronesse
von Seidlitz-Hardenberg.”
     
    “And how many nights will you be staying with us, ma’am?”
     
    She held out two fingers. The clerk wrote something in his ledger. Venetia signed the register with her new alias.
     
    “Here is your key, baroness. And a walking map of Central Park, which you will find just outside our doors. We hope you enjoy your