One Scandalous Kiss by Christy Carlyle Read Free Book Online Page A

aside, Miss Jessamin Wright remained vivid in his mind’s eye—with her wire-rimmed spectacles, shabby clothes, pretty hair, and floral scent.
    He’d intended to remain in London for a fortnight but when he’d finally given up on sleep and risen early, he yearned for nothing more than to prepare for the journey back to Hartwell. Distance from the incident in London and a return to the responsibilities of the estate would cure him of the fanciful notions running through his head.
    His valet, Mather, assisted him to dress, but in his usual slow, precise method. Lucius bit his lip, praying for tolerance to bear the man’s snaillike pace. It didn’t work. He pulled his neck cloth from Mather’s gnarled hands and began tying it himself, ignoring the fact that he was making a mess of the thing.
    In his low drone, Mather said, “Are you in a very great hurry, my lord?” He spoke the word hurry as if it was a distasteful and a quite unexpected possibility.
    Why was he suddenly so keen to be away from London? Surely the scent of violet water and the memory of Miss Wright’s kiss would have the power to haunt him as far as Berkshire. And departing early might provide more fodder for those who’d make much of the incident at the gallery. Not to mention that he’d yet to speak to Aunt Augusta at any length about her short list of marriageable young ladies. It had been the main impetus for coming to London. The need to marry well, to refill the estate’s coffers and see to long overdue repairs weighed on him more and more. Yet this morning, for reasons he refused to ponder too deeply, the notion of marriage held no appeal, practical or otherwise.
    “No, Mather. Carry on.” Lucius thought he saw amusement lifting the elderly man’s mouth but couldn’t be sure. Mather generally disdained displays of emotion as much as he loathed hustle. The man resumed tying Lucius’s neck cloth, slowly and precisely, and heaved a sigh when a knock sounded at the door. Mather loathed interruption too.
    “Beg pardon, my lord.” The housemaid pushed through the door almost as soon as she rapped. She bustled forward and held a letter out to Lucius. “A messenger from the Countess of Stamford just delivered this, my lord. He waits for your reply.”
    Unlike Mather, his aunt wasn’t known for rising early, and Lucius feared she might be unwell. Her note was short and to the point.
    Lucius, come at once. A.
    For such a talkative woman, his aunt was an unhelpfully vague correspondent.
    “Let the messenger know I will come at once.” His aunt wouldn’t settle for anything less.
    The young maid bobbed a curtsy and made a hasty retreat, nearly slipping on the polished floor as she pulled the bedchamber door shut with an unpleasant bang. The sound echoed painfully in his brandy-soaked head. Perhaps Mather had a point about the undesirability of haste after all.
    “L A D Y S T A M F O R D I S well?”
    Nothing about the demeanor of his aunt’s energetic butler, Noon, seemed amiss, but Lucius needed to hear from the man’s mouth that his aunt wasn’t ill.
    “Quite well, my lord. Lady Stamford is expecting you. She asked that you join her and her guests in the drawing room.”
    “Guests?” Lucius pressed his lips together to stifle a yawn. He never minded time spent with his aunt but, still bleary-eyed from his sleepless night, he didn’t fancy being sociable. And why must it be now, so early in the far too sunny morning?
    “Dearest nephew!”
    Lucius arched a brow, instantly awake. His aunt’s use of such a sugary endearment put him on high alert. He knew she felt a great deal of familial warmth toward him, but she’d never express it in such terms, especially in front of others. The crafty woman was warning him. Even her constant companions, twin pugs Castor and Pollux, their stout, biscuit-colored bodies tucked on either side of her, looked unsettled.
    Lucius leaned in to place a kiss on his aunt’s cheek and whisper near her ear,