i 57c498df09d8d058 by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

tomboyish playmate, all skinny arms and gangly legs. At fourteen, she’d had a silly dent in her chin, wild, curly dark hair, and sky blue eyes that seemed much too big for her face. But then he’d left home for Oxford and later joined the cavalry. And during the years he’d spent away, the tomboy had transformed into a woman.

    A very sultry one.

    Those cerulean eyes were now alluring, those limbs long and graceful, that body anything but awkward. The dent in her chin no longer looked silly—it looked provocative instead. Her hair was sleek and tamed, excepting those few chestnut tendrils that always seemed to come loose. Or maybe she left them loose deliberately. Either way, they caressed the sides of her face in a way that made him wish his hands were there in their place.

    In short, he found Rachael Chase entirely too attractive. Which was why he was happy she thought of him as nothing more than a cousin.

    Although cousins often wed, Rachael’s aunt had married a cousin, then sadly given birth to a crippled, feeble-minded child. A doctor had said the family relationship might be to blame, and as a result, Rachael was dead-set against marrying any cousin, no matter how distant. And that suited Griffin just fine, since he had no intention of marrying her.

    He had no intention of marrying anyone, for that matter.

    At least, not in the foreseeable future.

    His sisters and Cainewood kept him occupied quite enough, thank you very much. The last thing he needed was an additional distraction, or yet another responsibility. For God’s sake, he was only thirty, he thought as he downed the rest of the orange brandy and went back inside.

    There were years and years left before he had to worry about taking on a wife.

     

Chapter Six

    The homes on the east and west sides of Berkeley Square were close to the street and built cheek by jowl against one another, but Lincolnshire House stood alone on the north end, behind a high, imposing wall. Friday morning, the guard at the massive wooden gate scowled at the portmanteau Sean carried.

    ‘‘Peddlers are not welcome.’’

    Sean’s hand clenched on the handle of the simple leather bag. ‘‘I’m the earl’s nephew,’’ he said, all but choking on the words.

    A little gasp burst from the man’s mouth. ‘‘Pardon me, Mr. Hamilton. I’m sorry; truly I am.’’ Babbling, he swung open the gate. ‘‘Do come in, and please accept my sincerest apologies.’’

    Sean was more than willing to do so, but he was struck dumb at sight of the house.

    His own house in Hampstead was sizable and impressive. Originally built in the seventeenth century, it had been extended and remodeled some fifty years ago by the notable architect Robert Adam, for a chief justice who worked in the City but wanted to live in the suburbs. It sat in acres of gardens and ancient woodland, with a stunning view out over London. Deirdre had gasped the first time she saw it.

    But it seemed a hovel in comparison to the Earl of Lincolnshire’s enormous mansion in Berkeley Square.

    A rather plain Palladian-style brick building, it was quite simply the largest house Sean had ever seen. Five gardeners labored industriously in the lavishly landscaped courtyard. After banging the knocker, he shifted uncomfortably on the front steps beneath the portico, wishing he’d never consented to what he was about to do.

    Deirdre certainly hadn’t agreed that it was worthwhile to secure her divorce. Last night’s disbelieving cry— ‘‘You promised to do what ?’’—still rang in his head. ‘‘That’s ridiculous!’’ she’d railed—and Irishwomen were nothing if not expert railers. ‘‘You fool! You knothead! I don’t need you to play the martyr for me. I’ll be happy together with Daniel whether we’re married or not.’’

    Well, maybe she would be happy, but Sean wouldn’t. Not if the two hadn’t exchanged vows. But although he’d been tempted to tell her Hamilton was threatening to