One Whisper Away by Emma Wildes Read Free Book Online Page B

The trouble was, as a man raised between two cultures, he just didn’t worry about conformity because he didn’t fit precisely into any part of his heritage.
    Or that was part of the trouble. The other part was Lady Cecily’s incomparable allure. He wasn’t used to being so drawn to a female. Yes, he’d known many beautiful women—enjoyed them sexually on a mutually casual basis—but as James had pointed out, she wasn’t available.
    He was a warrior and the duke’s daughter was a most delectable prize . . . except he was sitting in a very formal drawing room in one of the most civilized cities in the world and the object of all eyes.
    Damn .
    The only redeeming part of it all was that the music was actually performed with a modicum of talent, the musicians having been brought in from Vienna, and he enjoyed the performance enormously compared to the usual amateur recitals he’d been subjected to since his arrival in England.
    Did the winsome Miss Francis play? he wondered, acutely aware of her across the room. Her head was slightly bent, her profile delicate, the languid wave of her fan sensual and tantalizing, and though he did his best to keep his attention on the string quartet, her presence was very distracting.
    She hadn’t answered his question.
    What he couldn’t precisely explain was how he needed to sweep the potential of any scandal under the proverbial rug as swiftly as possible for the sake of his sisters and daughter, or how anxious he was to return to his native country.
    He hadn’t told Lillian, Carole, or Betsy about his plans either. There was a certain legacy of guilt inherited with the title, for while he’d known his sisters existed, he really hadn’t imagined having an actual relationship with any of them except of the most perfunctory kind. His father’s visits to America had been frequent enough that they’d known each other well, and he had Adela to fill his life.
    When the music was over, the general exodus of murmured polite greetings and farewells done, he dutifully delivered his sisters back to the town house in Mayfair. Lillian had declined to go out. Which, he was beginning to realize, was normal behavior for her. After briefly checking in on Addie, who was sleeping peacefully at this late hour, her nursemaid in the adjoining room, he headed for the club his cousin frequented—his own membership an inheritance from his father. Usually he found the smoky interior oppressive and the company pompous, but he’d received a note that James was back in town after a week’s absence on business and hoped to catch him.
    London society was so predictable, he thought as he walked in the door and was greeted by the steward. The men with their clubs, the women with their afternoon teas . . .
    James was sitting at a table by himself, the newspaper neatly folded next to his glass of whiskey, and a quick grin lit his face as Jonathan approached. “How was the musicale?”
    “Don’t look so smug. It was not as insufferable as some,” Jonathan said with a grimace, dropping into the opposite chair in a comfortable sprawl and nodding at the nearby waiter. “Though I do have to say playing duenna to young ladies is hardly my forte. Speaking of which, what happened with Lillian?”
    James chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s your mixed blood or that you are an American, but you have a habit of being disconcertingly direct. Do you know that?”
    “I believe in stating what is on my mind.” Jonathan ordered a brandy and settled lower in his chair. “Now, tell me about Lillian. All she will say is she is ruined and someone named Lord Sebring is responsible. At that point I was told to mind my own business in the clearest way possible, but may I evoke the argument that this is my business by default? Besides, if all of society knows, why is it I can’t be privy to the same information?”
    James considered him from across the table, his gaze somewhat wary. “I didn’t