Intimate Betrayal by Adrienne Basso Read Free Book Online Page A

distance. Though not his primary residence, the castle held many fond memories of carefree, boyhood summers. It stood majestically on a hilltop, surveying everything below. The sun glistened off the gray stone walls, softening the vastness and grandeur of the castle. It had originally been built by Henry VIII as one of a chain of coastal forts for protection against French raids, but was reborn when the fourth duke, Morgan’s grandfather, had decided to renovate the castle after returning from his European grand tour.
    The renovation had taken almost twenty years, but the result was an incomparable showcase of fine craftsmanship, wealth, and imagination. Rebuilt in the Gothic style, the original structure had been transformed into a work of art, with tall stone spires encased in florid ornamental detail, endless arched windows with both clear and stained glass, and intriguing stone carvings on the exterior.
    The interior was equally impressive, with marble floors, patterned in black, red, and white, sunken ceiling panels enriched with gold, and high relief carvings.
    Morgan’s unexpected arrival put the place in an uproar. Burke, the castle butler, was practically wringing his hands as he followed Morgan into the grand entrance hall and assisted the duke out of his greatcoat and gloves.
    “We were not properly notified of your arrival, Your Grace,” Burke said, the panic evident in his voice. “Cook will barely have time to prepare a proper evening meal.”
    “Don’t go all to pieces on me, Burke,” the duke replied lightly. “I had business to attend to nearby and could not return to town without visiting my grandmother. How is she?”
    “The dowager duchess is in perfect health as always, Your Grace. I believe she and Mrs. Glyndon are in the morning room working on Her Grace’s correspondence.”
    That brought a smile to Morgan’s face. His grandmother was always working on her correspondence. He once told her she sent more letters to her friends than Napoleon did to his generals.
    “Fine. I shall go there directly after I have cleaned up.” The duke began climbing the long winding staircase at a nimble pace, with a puffing Burke trying to keep up. “Oh, and Burke, I should like tea served in the morning room in one hour.”
    With a dismissive wave of his hand, Morgan took the last steps two at a time. The exhausted Burke remained oh the staircase, clutching the wrought-iron balustrade tightly while trying to catch his breath, hoping he would be able to comply with the duke’s orders in a timely manner.
    Feeling infinitely better after washing and changing into fresh garments, the duke proceeded to the morning room to greet his grandmother. He arrived just as tea was being brought in.
    “Morgan,” the dowager duchess exclaimed with delight. “What a wonderful surprise.”
    Morgan crossed the room and leaned down to kiss his grandmother’s cheek in greeting. “You are looking well, madam.”
    The dowager duchess patted the seat beside her, and Morgan sat down. “Imogene and I are just finishing.”
    Morgan inclined his head toward the duchess’s companion. “How are you today, Mrs. Glyndon?”
    “Just fine, Your Grace,” Mrs. Glyndon replied breathlessly.
    “Will you join us for tea, Imogene?” the dowager duchess asked politely.
    Mrs. Glyndon wisely declined. Although a woman well into middle age, she always became a bit flustered in the presence of her employer’s handsome grandson. Besides, she knew the dowager duchess preferred spending time alone with the duke.
    “Then we will see you at dinner,” the dowager duchess said in a dismissive tone.
    “So tell me, my dear boy,” she said after Mrs. Glendon left the room, “to what do I owe this delightful surprise? It isn’t like you to come out here without letting me know first.” The dowager duchess felt a sudden stab of fear. “Has something happened? Is Tristan all right?”
    “Tris is fine,” Morgan replied reassuringly. “What is