Dreamspinner by Olivia Drake Read Free Book Online Page A

propped on the pedestal of the bronze sphinx. He spared only a glance for her girlish companion; then his eyes fixed on Juliet. Slim and graceful in a high throated gown of lemon yellow silk, she shone like a ray of sunshine, brightening the overcast day and piercing the darkness of his heart.
    Spying him, she waved and walked faster. Her fresh young face and lush, lithe body awakened an absurd longing in him. Desire, pure and simple, he assured himself. She aroused nothing more than physical passion in him, a passion that would play an integral role in executing his plot. Any capacity in him for affection had died forever nearly three years earlier, on the rocky slope below Castle Radcliffe.
    So why did shame sour his soul? He’d half expected Juliet Carleton to change her mind; he’d prayed she would foil his plan. It was as if he wanted her to stop him from committing this coldblooded act. Yet here she came, her eyes the gold edged green of a forest and her smile as soft as a dream.
    Dreamspinner. The name scourged his mind and fortified his resolve. Today he would make no more mistakes; today he would permit no more slips of temper to spark her suspicions. But God! Who could have blamed him for forgetting himself when she’d uttered that cursed name? Who could condemn him for feeling bitter fury that Emmett Carleton had had the temerity to dub his daughter Dreamspinner?
    Forcing an amiable smile, Kent repressed the events that had driven him to this reckless stratagem. Juliet Carleton was his best weapon, his only weapon. Principle had no place in his scheme. Honor would bring no victory in this fight, not when he battled a man as ruthless as Emmett Carleton.
    With gentlemanly courtesy, he straightened as the two women stopped before him.
    “Good morning, Your Grace,” Juliet said, and sank into the obligatory curtsy, one hand balanced on her folded yellow parasol.
    The sight of a Carleton paying homage to a Deverell should have pleased him; instead, he felt vaguely irritated. “Please,” he said, keeping his voice congenial, “there’s no need for such formality between friends.”
    “I’d like you to meet the Lady Maud Peabody,” she said. “Maud, His Grace, the Duke of Radcliffe.”
    Kent dragged his gaze from her pretty smile and over to her companion. Clad in a gauzy pink gown, Lady Maud reminded him of an elegant iced confection.
    “I’m honored.” His ladyship dipped a curtsy, but she was squinting at him so avidly, she almost tripped on her voluminous skirts.
    He reached out to steady her arm. Her myopic regard told him she’d heard the scandalous rumors and hoped to find out more. He had no intention of having her tag along as chaperone.
    “Peabody,” he said. “Would your father be Lord Arthur Peabody?”
    “Yes, Your Grace. Are you acquainted with him?”
    “We’re both longtime members of Brooks’s Club. Although I’ve been away from London for some years, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to vouch for my character.”
    She nodded with a shade too much vigor. “Oh, yes. Yes, I’m sure he would.”
    “Then perhaps you won’t mind leaving Miss Carleton and me– .”
    “Gracious, will you look at that!” One hand supporting her ostrich plumed hat, Lady Maud tilted her head back and gazed up the colossal length of the obelisk, the tip shrouded in fog. “Egad, it’s tall, isn’t it? Do you suppose it really belonged to Cleopatra?”
    “The Pharoah Thothmes the Third,” Juliet read from the plaque on the granite pedestal.
    Lady Maud bent closer, her nose nearly brushing the bronze tablet as she peered at the inscription. “Fashioned in five hundred B.C.,” she gushed. “Or is that fifteen hundred? Ah, well, no matter, it’s all so terribly ancient. Imagine, Cleopatra’s Needle once baked beneath the hot sun of Egypt. Isn’t that fascinating, Your Grace?”
    Kent repressed a grin at her transparent attempt to distract him. “Quite. However, I’d far prefer to take a