Not Quite a Lady by Loretta Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

Darius. Now.
    Darius always heeded Logic unhesitatingly.
    This time, though, he hesitated, for three reasons.
    One, she represented a puzzle.
    Two, it was exceedingly difficult for a healthy male to turn his back upon a splendid physical specimen—and she was one of the finest physical specimens he’d ever seen.
    Three, that dress. On her, the virginal white gown was anything but virginal. He saw not Diana but Venus, not the maiden huntress but the goddess of love.
    The thought brought into his mind the painting in Florence that Benedict had dragged him to see years ago. It was about the only work of art worth seeing on that long, boring Grand Tour, in which far too many churches and far too few women figured.
    It was the famous Botticelli painting of Venus standing naked upon an overlarge seashell.
    Naturally, Darius imagined Lady Charlotte naked, like the Venus she so strongly resembled. Any man would do the same, whether he’d seen the painting or not.
    Imagining was reasonable. Letting his eyes wander was deranged. Even he knew better than to look lasciviously at an unwed lady in that way—in public, and under her father’s roof, no less! It was a sure way to find himself (a) standing at the altar hearing the marriage service or (b) at the wrong end of a horsewhip, or (c) facing a pistol at twenty paces.
    Fights to the death over females were common enough and all very well among the birds and beasts. Among reasoning beings, however, such behavior was absurd. Especially when the last thing a reasoning being wanted was to offend her father.
    Darius hastily dragged his attention upward from the mouthwatering, maidenly pink blush spreading over her silken skin.
    Too late. Murder, plain as day, stared back at him from her ice-blue eyes.
    She’d looked that way a moment ago when he’d started teasing her about their previous meeting. He’d thought, She’s going to throttle me , and he’d wanted her to try to do it. That would be entertaining.
    But she hadn’t tried to strangle him then and didn’t now.
    To his surprise, she smiled a conspiratorial smile.
    Then she leaned toward him, offering a better view of her perfectly rounded breasts, which the gown’s narrow bodice, aided by the upthrusting corset, displayed more of than seemed proper for a virgin.
    All of his self-protective instincts went on the alert, along with the reproductive ones.
    “Mr. Carsington,” she said huskily.
    Trap! Trap! cried Logic. Run away!
    “Lady Charlotte,” he said warily.
    “Let us not stand on ceremony,” she said. “My parents are occupied with other guests.”
    Darius knew he should have become occupied with other guests right after the introductions. He started to turn away.
    She touched his arm very lightly.
    His pulse rate accelerated.
    He looked down at the gloved hand barely touching his arm. He looked up into her far-too-beautiful face.
    She still wore the conspiratorial smile. “I know you will wish to meet your neighbors,” she said. “I shall be happy to stand in for Papa. I often do. We are quite informal here—and he does seem to be engrossed in his conversation with the rector.”
    While she talked, she led Darius away from her parents and toward a small group at the other end of the drawing room.
    At the last instant, though, she changed direction, and steered him toward a curvaceous redhead who stood at the pianoforte, examining the sheet music heaped there. Her name, he learned, was Henrietta Steepleton. She was a young widow with a breathless voice—no doubt the result of her talking at great length without stopping to inhale.
    As soon as Mrs. Steepleton began talking, Lady Charlotte left them.
    In the instant before she turned away, Darius saw her vacuously polite smile sharpen into a grin.
    Drawing room of Lithby Hall, three and a half hours later
    “It would have been kinder to strangle me,” Mr. Carsington murmured.
    Charlotte stopped short, and tea sloshed to the brim of the cup she was carrying.