Intimate Betrayal by Adrienne Basso Read Free Book Online Page B

wrong with everyone today? Can’t a man arrive at his own home without everybody going into a frenzy? First Burke and now you.”
    “Don’t pout, Morgan,” the dowager duchess admonished, regarding her grandson thoughtfully. Morgan was not known for his even temper, but she could see beyond the agitation that something was upsetting him. Biding her time, she served the tea.
    The dowager duchess elegantly lifted the Spode teapot, filling the thin porcelain cups. She added sugar and cream, then handed Morgan his cup. While he balanced the delicate vessel in his large hand, she filled a plate with biscuits, cucumber sandwiches, scones, and Morgan’s favorite cream pastries. She placed the plate on the low table in front of him and watched as he dove into it with relish.
    Absently she sipped her own tea while continuing to observe her beloved grandson. She noticed his tired eyes and the grim set to his mouth. Yes, something was definitely bothering him, but experience taught her Morgan would tell her in his own good time.
    Although the dowager duchess loved both her grandsons, it was Morgan who held a special place in her heart. She was not blind to his faults; he was quick-tempered and demanding and at times could be positively dictatorial. But his often gruff exterior hid a generous and loyal heart, and a sensitive soul.
    Few people ever saw the sensitive side of Morgan, but the dowager duchess did. She knew his marriage had been an unhappy one and she in part blamed herself because she had encouraged the match. Only the dowager duchess knew the pain and guilt Morgan suffered when Valerie had died.
    She had seen him turn inward more over the three years since Valerie’s death. The duke was a complex man; well liked and well respected among his peers, yet there were few in society who could claim his friendship. Morgan was a man who kept his own counsel. As for women, the dowager duchess was well aware of Morgan’s less than sterling reputation. She was not naive; she knew he kept mistresses as well as indulging in affairs with married women of the ton. She had long since given up trying to introduce him to respectable, eligible young women. He had expressed his refusal to consider marriage again in no uncertain terms and the dowager duchess tactfully respected his desires. It was an unspoken agreement between them.
    After deciding Morgan had eaten his fill of pastries, the dowager duchess began her inquires.
    “How are Tris and dear Caroline progressing with the wedding plans? Has Caroline’s scatterbrained mother been able to set a definite date yet?”
    “Grandmother,” Morgan warned, “you must not refer to Lady Grantham as a scatterbrain all the time.”
    “Why ever not? It is the truth. Thank goodness Caroline has only inherited her sweet nature and not her lack of sense. You know I can’t tolerate stupidity in anyone, especially women. But what about the wedding plans?”
    Morgan gave her a quelling look. “Really, madam, if you insist on discussing wedding plans, I shall have to leave.”
    “Oh, do stop being so grumpy, Morgan, or I shall take back my delight in seeing you.”
    “I am sorry. I’ve had a very troublesome week.” Morgan ate two more small sandwiches. “Grandmother, have you ever made the acquaintance of Jeremy Carrington, Viscount Mulgrave?”
    The dowager duchess paused a moment to think. “I do recall meeting an Eleanor Carrington many years ago. She died young, poor creature; it was rather sad. I am not sure if she was his wife or sister. No, wait, Eleanor was his wife. I remember they had a child, a little girl.”
    “Alyssa,” Morgan murmured.
    “They had a lovely home in Hampshire. Westgate Manor, I believe it was called.”
    For once Morgan wished his grandmother didn’t possess such an excellent memory. She knew more about the Carrington family than he did.
    “I now own Westgate Manor,” Morgan informed the dowager.
    “I wasn’t aware that you had purchased another