Potent Pleasures by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online Page B

had retired for the night and could not bid her good-bye, but she demanded to see her nephew. So Adelaide began weaving through the people left in the ballroom, looking for her husband. The ballroom itself was finally clearing out, but people were still crowding the hallways and reception rooms.
    At the end of the first-floor hallway, to the right of the huge marble staircase, was the chamber they called the Green Room. It had a huge, old grand piano that had been deemed too much trouble to remove. Adelaide did not find Marcel there, but she did find the two sons of the Earl of Sheffield and Downes.
    As she paused in the doorway she heard a strong, sweet voice raised in song. One of the twins was seated at the piano, with his back to her, singing in a beautiful baritone. For a moment she paused in pleasure. Young women were forced to take piano and voice lessons as part of the accoutrements of young ladyhood; it was rare to meet a gentleman with the same skills. And he did have a superb voice.
    His brother was leaning negligently against a pillar off to the right. The singer himself was surrounded by a pale, fluttering group of debutantes who had somehow shaken off their chaperones, Adelaide thought, her eyes sharpening a bit. Of course—the chaperones must have gone off to the marquee for a bite to eat, and the young women had gathered here. Not proper, she thought firmly.
    Suddenly the little flock of three maidens convulsed into soft gales of laughter, but the male voice continued. And for the first time Adelaide actually heard what he was singing:
“The touch of her hand increases his flame,
Who conquer’d by charms a captive doth lie;
And when he but thinks of his true love’s name,
He vows for her sake he could freely die:
Then she revives him again with a kiss,
He cries you undo me, undo me, undo me,
Had ever poor soul such pleasure as this?”
    Adelaide’s mouth fell open. He could “die,” indeed! Why, that young heathen was singing bawdy tunes to society misses.
    She moved forward sharply, her skirt brushing the door portals. The nonsinging brother looked up at her from his pillar.
    “Patrick,” he said abruptly. “We have company. And I believe”—he pulled himself gracefully upright and walked over to her—”we have been joined by our hostess herself.”
    The girls swung around quickly, and little Barbara Lewnstown actually turned pink.
    “Girls,” Adelaide said in a faintly admonishing tone. “Are you alone? Where’s your mother, Barbara?”
    Barbara answered, rather faintly. “Well, she went off with Sissy’s mother”—she flapped her hand at Cecilia Commonweal behind her—”but it’s all right, Your Grace. These are my cousins, you know.”
    Of course, she did know that, Adelaide thought, but she’d totally forgotten. She cast a stern eye on the handsome young man who had swiveled around on the piano bench and stood up, and now was looking sweetly at her. If this was Patrick, he was the younger one. My goodness, these boys are a devastating pair, she thought.
    Patrick swept into an elegant bow, picking up her hand and kissing it. His eyes twinkled wickedly under his mop of silver-black curls. Despite herself, Adelaide felt a little feminine thrill.
    “Your Grace,” said Patrick Foakes, “may I sing you a song?” He threw her a glance full of mischief. “A most proper song, of course.”
    And without even thinking of Aunt Margaret, waiting impatiently by now, perhaps even beating her stick on the parquet, Adelaide twinkled back.
    “Very short, and very proper,” she said.
    Patrick swung onto the piano bench and poised his large hands over the keyboard. His voice wound into the notes of a teasing, light song:
“You ladies who are young and gay,
Since time too swiftly flies away,
Bestow your hours of leisure, bestow your hours of leisure
On courts, on gardens, springs, and groves,
On conversation’s lawful loves,
And ev’ry harmless pleasure, ev’ry, ev’ry harmless