Desire Becomes Her by Shirlee Busbee Read Free Book Online Page A

twenty; Cornelia’s one concession to age was her carved walnut walking stick. Luc grinned. She could, when necessary, wield that cane with great skill.
    Seating himself next to Cornelia, Luc asked, “And where is my brother this morning?” Smiling from one woman to the other, he murmured, “His obvious desertion of two such winsome ladies makes me wonder if we are even related.”
    Cornelia chuckled and tapped him smartly on the arm. “Doing it up too brown, you young scamp. My mirror doesn’t lie, and I haven’t been winsome for fifty years or more.”
    Luc lifted the wrinkled hand that rested on his arm. Dropping a kiss on the back of it, he said, “I beg to differ, Madame—your mirror does lie, and if not for the scandal it would cause, I would steal you away from Windmere in a heartbeat.”
    Looking pleased, Cornelia said, “Now if I were fifty years younger, I might just let you do it.”
    Grinning at her, Luc replied, “Madame, you could not stop me.”
    Emily cleared her throat. Sending Luc a mocking glance, she said, “If you’re through trying to seduce my aunt, perhaps you would like to know where your brother has gone.”
    “Ah, oui, I did ask after him, didn’t I?”
    “He has gone with Worley to inspect one of the old barns on the farm leased by Farmer Calkin,” Emily said. “According to Calkin, that storm we had last week damaged the roof so badly that only an entirely new roof will make it weather-tight. Since Calkin is known to be a complainer, Barnaby decided to see for himself just how badly damaged the roof is before he approves the expenditure. It could merely need patching.”
    Luc glanced outside at the rain pelting the windows. “Not a day I would have chosen to go out riding with my bailiff.”
    “Barnaby is not a man to be put off by a little wet weather—or a task that needs doing,” she said with a smile.
    Luc agreed with her. Barnaby took his duties as landowner seriously, whether it was overseeing a vast estate like Windmere or the plantation in Virginia. For a moment Luc wondered if he’d be as good an overlord, then shrugged the idea away. Far better that he be footloose and unhampered by responsibilities or dependents. He told himself he liked his life the way it was and wasn’t cut out to be a landowner—great or small.
    Yet the thought nagged that he might not do too badly. From the age of twelve, when he’d arrived at Green Hill in Virginia, he’d helped work the land and in his aimless wanderings, when the cards had failed him, he’d hired himself out as a simple laborer or whatever job he could find to keep his belly full. He didn’t envy Barnaby his lands or fortune or wife, but it occurred to him that sinking down roots and owning his own land and house might not be the prison he had always viewed it. Was it possible that he was mellowing with age? Zut! He hoped not.
    Frowning, he picked at his sirloin, and noting his expression, Emily asked, “Is something wrong? Has something happened?”
    Luc shook his head. “ Non. I am fine.” Plunging right into his story, he added, “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for my friend Ordway. Someone ran his phaeton off the road last night and left him lying in a ditch with a broken arm.”
    Both ladies were horrified, full of queries about Mr. Ordway, and Luc said hastily, “Do not be anxious! I came along not long after the accident occurred and was able to get him safely to High Tower. I stayed until after his arm was set and he was comfortably settled in his bed and had swallowed a dose of laudanum.”
    “Thank goodness you found him when you did,” Emily said warmly.
    Cornelia said with her usual tartness, “Perhaps there is something to be said for your late nights.”
    Luc laughed. “In this case, yes. But tell me, if you please, what do you know of Silas’s niece?”
    The two women exchanged glances.
    “Which one?” asked Cornelia. “He has two, Mrs. Easley and Mrs. Dashwood.”
    “I do not know