How to Deceive a Duke by Lecia Cornwall Read Free Book Online Page A

was far earlier than Sebastian usually rose, especially after a night of hard drinking. Finding the dread Duchess of Temberlay seated in a chair in the middle of the entrance hall brought on the shakes. He licked his lips, plucked his hat off his head, and held it over the vital parts of his anatomy like a shield.
    “You know very well he is not here. Where is he?”
    His lips moved, and his jaw flapped like a trout’s, but no sound came out. He tried to think of a polite excuse, but there wasn’t one. “He was out celebrating the, um, happy occasion last night. He gave me his word that he would be on time this morning . . .” It was obvious that she didn’t believe a word, and he let the falsehoods trail off.
    He shifted his feet like a disgraced schoolboy, and tried to think of a better explanation for Nicholas’s absence, but his head was pounding. They’d visited three parties, and it had been well past four when Sebastian had tumbled into the nearest coach and ordered the driver to take him home. He’d woken in his own bed this morning, so it must have been his coach. He assumed that Nicholas had gone on without him. The man had the constitution of a warhorse.
    “He will be late for his wedding if he does not walk through that door in the next five minutes,” the duchess snapped. “Do you know where to look for him? With that actress, perhaps?”
    Sebastian blushed. The old lady was remarkably well informed. Of course, she didn’t like her younger grandson, and probably believed every scandalous tale about him out of sheer spite. “Oh, I don’t think he would—”
    She banged her walking stick on the marble tiles, and the sound echoed through the cavernous hall. Sebastian winced. “Don’t be a fool! I can read, and I can hear perfectly well. Temberlay’s habits are the talk of every fashionable salon in London, and a good many disreputable ones as well. Go and find him.”
    “Your pardon?” he squeaked again.
    “Find him! Drag him to the church in whatever condition you find him, drunk or sober, naked, if necessary,” she bellowed, and the echo rang in his head like a hammer blow. He began to back toward the door, trying to bow and escape at the same time.
    The door opened before he could reach it.
    “St. James, there you are! I was afraid you’d be late.” Nick’s companionable slap on the back nearly floored him, and Sebastian wheezed. Nicholas was tousled and unkempt, still in evening clothes, his cravat loose, his waistcoat missing a button, looking every inch like a man who had spent the night reveling in every manner of debauchery. He grinned at his grandmother. It was a smile Sebastian knew well, the one he saved for charming the most difficult of female conquests. The duchess glared back malevolently, completely unaffected.
    “You fool! You have only minutes to bathe, shave, and dress. You will not be late for your wedding, Temberlay.”
    Nicholas bowed over her hand, but she snatched it out of his grip.
    “I’ll be there, Granddame. If I’m not, you and Daisy may start without me.”
    Sebastian almost smiled at his daring and his fortitude, but it hurt too much. Nicholas took the stairs two at a time, calling for his valet.
    Sebastian followed more gingerly.
    “You will make sure he’s on time, St. James. Is that clear?” the duchess called after him. “The wedding is at eleven.” She rose, and swept him with a look of disdain. “Perhaps I’d better see to it myself that he gets there,” she said. Sebastian tried Nicholas’s rogue’s grin. It felt like death’s grimace.
    “Please, Your Grace, I’ll see that he arrives on time. He’ll want to ride, and the fresh air will do him a world of good.” Or it would make Nicholas’s own hangover all the more painful, Sebastian hoped.
    “He has fifteen minutes, or I will go upstairs and drag him down, d’you hear?”
    Her words thundered around the domed ceiling and smacked him across the head.
    “Perfectly, Your Grace.