Disciplining the Duchess by Annabel Joseph Read Free Book Online Page B

for example. They needn’t be true.”
    “Your Grace.” She tried hard to look shocked as she ought, but a smile played around the corners of her lips. “I was not bloated, by the way.”
    “Of course not.”
    “I simply didn’t want to dance with him. I do not enjoy dancing.”
    “I don’t either. Not these country dances anyway. In London, they waltz.” He gave her a look he feared contained some longing. “Have you danced the waltz, Miss Barrett? In the ballrooms of London?”
    She looked stricken. “I am not permitted to waltz.”
    “Not permitted? By whom?”
    “By the patronesses at Almack’s.” She paused. “Rather, they revoked my permission. I am mortified to say why.”
    Ah, the Almack’s debacle. Beautiful Miss Barrett, strewing chaos wherever she went. He could not laugh at the poor thing, not to her face, but his mind swam with comical images of what a young lady might do to have her dancing permissions revoked. He disguised his laughter in a ponderous frown. “I do not know the circumstances,” he said, “but you ought not to have lost your waltzing privileges. It’s criminal. A miscarriage of justice, I’m sure.”
    “Perhaps you can introduce a bill on my behalf into the House of Lords, Your Grace.”
    He nodded, enjoying her cleverness. “All young ladies should be free to waltz. Particularly you, Miss Barrett. Yes, it would make a fine bill, and take some of the wind out of those stuffy patronesses.”
    She sobered and gave a sad little shrug. “I do not care, anyway.”
    Court wished he might slip an arm around her waist and draw her close. He wished he might secure her little hummingbird hand fluttering at her throat and trap it in his own and waltz her around the lake until her sullen mood brightened. His hands flexed into fists, fighting the folly of his will. She stirred him. Her ample breasts, her delicate hands. Her full, pouting lips.
    My God, he was developing a tendre for Miss Chaos. He took a deep breath to clear his head and let it out again. “You should not care,” he said. “Almack’s is a crashing bore.”
    “But those balls are only a few hours of torture. This house party drags on and on. All anyone does here is gossip, eat, dance, and kill things.”
    Court nodded at her accurate assessment. “So what are we to do with you? You dislike three of those four activities, and you cannot eat every hour of the day.”
    “Your Grace!” She halted him, eyes wide. “Be absolutely still.”
    She stepped forward, practically against him, and darted one gloved hand at his face. Before he could step away, her fingertip slid beneath his left eye, a fleeting touch. She drew her finger back and held it up to him. “You had an eyelash. Now you can make a wish.”
    He looked down at her finger, his dark lash perched at its tip. Everyone in the garden was surely watching this young woman plastered against his front. “Quickly,” she said, “or it will blow away on the wind.” She was so close to him now he might have kissed her.
    “Quickly what?” he asked, befuddled.
    Her blue eyes sparkled at him. “You must blow your eyelash away, Your Grace, and make a wish as you do.”
    There was no way he was going to blow his eyelash from her fingertip. Dukes of the realm did not do those sorts of things. He saw the moment she realized he would not do it, for her mood dimmed again.
    “Why don’t you take my wish?” he suggested, easing her away from him. “Wish for something marvelous.”
    She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
    “Doesn’t it? Why not?”
    “It just doesn’t.” She rubbed her thumb over the finger and his eyelash flittered away, perhaps into the lake, the wishful opportunity squandered. She backed away from him, straightening her skirt and tugging at her bonnet. “I wonder if it’s time yet for tea? I am feeling so much better now.” She gave a decisive nod. “Completely better. I’m sorry to have drawn you away from your friends