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

I’ll go up and hurry him along.” He fled before she could threaten castration if he failed, probably his, since she wanted heirs.
    S ebastian shut the door of his friend’s chamber and leaned on it. Nicholas’s hair was wet from a hasty bath, and his valet was preparing to shave him. “Lord, Devil, your grandmother is a dragon!”
    “She’s a woman like any other. You just need to know how to charm her, manage her,” Nicholas said.
    “Oh? And if you know how to handle her, then why do we find you about to hang in the parson’s noose this fine morning? It seems she’s the one who has managed you right into matrimony.”
    Nicholas sobered. “Let’s give her the full joy of it, shall we?” He crossed the room to sip the coffee awaiting him on a tray.
    Sebastian looked at his watch and grimaced. “I need to rush you along, old chap, or no one will have any joy at all. Her Grace will have my head boiled and served at the wedding breakfast if you’re late.” He strode to the wardrobe and threw open the mahogany doors. “What coat will you wear?”
    “What do you suggest, Partridge?” Nicholas asked his valet.
    “Dark blue or gray would be most appropriate, Your Grace. Something elegant and dignified.”
    Nicholas set his cup down and grinned. “D’you hear that, Seb? In that case, I’ll take the green one. Pair it with the red striped waistcoat.”
    Sebastian winced as Partridge took the items out of the wardrobe. The coat was a vivid shade of emerald, more suited to an afternoon at the races, and even there it would be pushing the limits of good taste. “You’re quite certain this is the coat you meant, sir?” Partridge asked.
    “The very one,” Nicholas replied. “With black breeches and boots. What do you think of that?”
    “You’ll knock her eye out, Your Grace,” Partridge intoned soberly.
    “That’s the very idea. Like a good horse, she needs to know who’s riding her, who holds the whip. I mean to show her that from the very start.”
    Sebastian wondered how the god-awful outfit was meant to accomplish that, but there wasn’t time to discuss it. He watched the clock as Partridge tied Nicholas’s cravat with his usual precision, and helped his master into the nauseatingly bright waistcoat. The coat was almost a blessing, since it hid some of the stripes.
    Nicholas took his top hat from Partridge and turned to go, going down the stairs at a run. Mercifully, the duchess had left her post.
    “Her name is Rose,” Sebastian panted. “Not Daisy.”
    A footman opened the front door and Nicholas sailed through it. “Rose,” he repeated in a wicked drawl.
    “Rose,” Sebastian confirmed, and squinted at the merciless midday sun. Nicholas was grinning his Devil grin, and Sebastian felt his stomach lurch. He almost pitied the bride.
    She was in for one hell of a day.

Chapter 8
    F lora was still crying when Meg descended the stairs the next morning, dressed for the wedding. She followed the sound of her mother’s sobs to the breakfast room, and opened the door. Hector was patting her hand and doing his best to comfort her.
    He drew a surprised breath and leaped to his feet.
    “Rose!” Flora slid to the floor in a faint. If she expected Hector to catch her, she was disappointed. He was staring at the bride before him, looking a little pale himself. Meg lifted the veil an inch and regarded her mother.
    “What the devil do you think you’re playing at, Marguerite?” Hector bent to rub Flora’s limp wrists. “Look what you’ve done to your poor mother. We thought you were Rose.”
    Meg folded back the veil entirely. “I’m not playing at anything. I’m going to marry the Duke of Temberlay in Rose’s place. He needs a wife and we need his money.”
    “Are you out of your mind?” Hector dropped Flora’s hand and rose, stepping over her prostrate form to reach Meg. “This isn’t a game!”
    Meg sat down and buttered a triangle of toast, though she wasn’t hungry. The butterflies