Compromised by Christmas by Katy Madison Read Free Book Online Page B

remind me."
    "I don't believe that the Luddites have taken to
destroying the roads," said Max.
    "Well, it just seemed that it was more than nature's
fury. Such jostling ought to come because someone wished to create
unease. I should much prefer to blame the Luddites than God or
nature."
    Roxana laughed as if he'd spoken with brilliance. "I
quite agree. Villains are ever so much more fun to blame."
    Mr. Breedon made an attempt to pull in his puff-guts,
and Max stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. She didn't care.
Mr. Breedon was a perfect candidate to compromise her: he was rich,
a bit of a slowtop and would think himself blessed lucky to pay her
off rather than be tricked into marriage. Then she would have money
to open her dress shop.
    Beyond that, she felt absolutely nothing but a vague
pity for Mr. Breedon, unlike for the duke, for whom she felt things
she would rather not feel for her intended dupe.
    Now she had to persuade Mr. Breedon to compromise
her, and then rely on Max to insist on compensation.
    *~*~*
    Max kept a polite expression pasted on his face
throughout the day. It wouldn't do for anyone to see a duke out of
sorts. He knew his role and played it well. Annoyance wasn't in his
script.
    By tea time the drawing room had grown more crowded.
Scully had arrived as well as two of Max's aunts with their
families. The next three or four days would see a steady influx of
guests. Max had been down to the entry hall, welcoming Scully and
showing him to his room, but he was more interested in seeing their
first guest.
    He scanned the drawing room and located Roxana
standing by a window. She cast only a cursory glance in his
direction, but her gaze had lighted on Breedon and she took a step
toward him. Max's shoulders grew heavy, but he didn’t allow his
posture to change. She had been stuck to Breedon's side ever since
his arrival. He was tired of watching her fawn and flirt with the
self-absorbed fool.
    Weaving his way around the groups of furniture and
guests, he caught Roxana's arm. He wanted to pull her aside before
she homed in on the man that she had apparently singled out for
attachment. She jerked back, her eyes startled.
    Her stiffening under his hand surprised him. He put a
hand against the small of her back, pressing ever so slightly to
guide her in a different direction. He was too aware of the
delicious curve of her spine and his inclination to leave his hand
long after it was necessary. "Allow me to introduce you to our
newest guests."
    Roxana's gaze darted over the groups of people and
came back to his. For a moment time stood still as he looked down
at her midnight-blue eyes. He resisted the urge to pull her
closer.
    "I . . . I believe I've met everyone," she said.
    "Then allow me to escort you in a turn about the
room. There are more guests who will join us and most of them
already know each other." He pulled her hand into the crook of his
elbow and leaned close to whisper, "You do not wish to appear too
eager to snare Breedon in a parson's mousetrap."
    She shrugged and walked beside him. He looked down on
the straight part and the very simple loose knot of her hair. It
looked as if it would sinfully tumble down if one pin were removed,
not that he would ever find out. She seemed determined not to look
at him as he steered her toward the far reaches of the room and the
alcove that flanked the far side of the massive fireplace. Just a
little nook where they could be private, without actually leaving
the room.
    When he had her far out of earshot of the other
guests, he asked her, "What are you about, Miss Winston? You cannot
be enamored of Mr. Breedon."
    Her delicately arching brows flattened, and she
backed away from him, folding her arms across her breasts. "Why
ever not?"
    Her arms drew his attention to her neckline. Was it
perhaps just a little low? In any case he would not complain, since
his eyes feasted on the gentle swell of flesh. "Well, I daresay you
would not be the first young lady to be