One Dance with a Duke by Tessa Dare Read Free Book Online Page A

sometimes circumstances—such as a death or impending poverty—make a lady’s decision for her.”
    “I cannot speak for Lily, Mr. Bellamy. But I can tell you, I have faced such circumstances. And they have never made the decisions for me.”
    So, Spencer thought to himself, Lady Amelia had received offers of marriage. And refused them. He had been wondering whether her spinsterhood was a condition arrived at by choice, or merely from a lack of alternatives.
    Damn it, why was he wondering about her? Why did he feel this need to know everything about an impertinent, managing, none-too-pretty female? But he did. Oh, he did not want to engage in anything so gauche or peril-fraught as inquiry. He merely wanted a reference—the comprehensive codex of all things Amelia Claire d’Orsay. A chart of her ancestry back to the Norman invaders. The catalogue listing every book she’d ever read. A topographical map indicating the precise location of every freckle on her skin.
    Ashworth spoke. “We’ve arrived.”
    The carriage rolled to a quiet halt before Harcliffe Manor. As they waited for the footman to open the door, Bellamy leaned forward and spoke directly to Spencer.
    “Lily may be deaf, but she is not stupid. She reads lips, and she speaks with diction every bit as aristocratic as yours. Look at her when you speak; that’s all that is required. Do not raise your voice or speak in simplisticterms, as if she were your senile great-aunt. Do not talk about her as if she isn’t in the room. Do not treat her as anything less than your social and intellectual equal.”
    Spencer bristled. “Why are you directing all this admonishment at me?”
    “Because before this night’s through, you will have a private audience with her. You will make Lily an offer, Morland. You will. Or by God, I’ll call you out.”

Chapter Three

    “A duel?” Amelia cried. “Whatever for? So we will have two deaths tonight, instead of one?”
    Ignoring her, the duke said icily, “Just try it, Bellamy. I will take pleasure in prying that token from your cold, dead hands.”
    Really, these men were impossible.
    When the carriage door swung open, Amelia rose from her seat and bustled between Bellamy and Morland, who sat trading murderous glares. As she exited the coach, the men followed her.
    Rushing up to claim the front stoop, she stood blocking the door and addressed them firmly, in the tone her mother had used to address her quarreling brothers. If these grown men were going to behave like boys squabbling over marbles, someone with sense had to take charge. For Lily’s sake.
    “Hold a moment, if you please. Before we go in, I will have my say.”
    The three men stared up at her, and Amelia’s resolve began to waver. They may have been behaving like children, but they were, all three of them, quite large, powerful, and intimidating men. A duke, a warrior, a scoundrel. She was unused to commanding the attention of such men. La, she was unused to commandingthe attention of
any
men, aside from her own brothers. Her navel was still turning cartwheels whenever she so much as
thought
of glancing in the duke’s direction. And thanks to the smoky, amber glow of the carriage lamp, she was getting her first clear look at Lord Ashworth and Mr. Bellamy.
    What she saw did not put her at ease.
    Ashworth was enormous, in every respect—tall, broad, imposing. A dramatic scar sliced from his temple to his cheekbone. The blow that caused it must have narrowly missed his eye. But for all Ashworth had the look of a marauding pirate, she felt safer with him than with Bellamy. Despite his rakishly mussed hair, Mr. Bellamy’s clothing and manner were polished—so polished, they gave the impression of slickness. There was such a thing as a man too handsome to be trusted.
    She drew a deep, steadying breath. “Here is what will occur. We will alert the house staff to awaken Lily and ask her to dress. By the time she comes down, I promise you, she will be prepared