Sins of a Wicked Duke by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online

had worked for such a man. A wicked, amoral man who got away with anything…even murder.
    Mr. Adams halted on the stairs and faced Fallon, his one eye unblinking. “We’re both men here, Francis, so I’ll be blunt.”
    Fallon squared her shoulders, nodding, trying to look manly and grim at the butler’s sobering tone.
    “We look the other way over the master’s escapades and clean up after him in the morning. And we don’t prattle about it outside these walls.” Mr. Adams motioned a gnarled finger at the narrow walls of the stairwell. “Or to the women of the house. No use offending their delicate sensibilities.”
    Delicate? Ha.
    “His Grace’s reputation is sullied enough without us bandying about what goes on under this roof? Understand?”
    Where had she landed herself? Sodom and Gomorrah?
    Fallon gave a brisk nod. “Of course, Mr. Adams.”
    As long as she had a warm meal and bed and funds enough to save for a place of her own—a genuine home—she could do near well anything. Mr. Adams turned and resumed his ascent. Fallon followed.
     

Chapter 5
    Fallon smiled and stretched herself beneath crisp sheets. For a long moment, she listened, enjoying the sound of her hard-won silence.
    Her gaze skimmed the four walls surrounding her. A table, dresser, wardrobe. All superior pieces of furniture for a servant’s room. And hers. All hers. For however long she resided here at any rate. A room of her own. Solitude. Not since Da died did she have a room of her own…or the blessed peace and silence that came with it. She would not fool herself into believing this was home. Home was permanent. Lasting. Something no one could take away. Something she vowed to one day claim for herself. Still…it was a marked improvement.
    A far-off screech shattered the early morning. Voices reached inside her room, pulling her upright.
     
    “She’s mad! Get her away from me! Help! Help!”
    Morning light scarcely bled through the curtains of her room. Sliding out of bed, she hastily dressed in her livery, stopping long enough in front of the dresser mirror to apply pomade to her hair and tie it at the back of her neck before securing the scratchy wig in place. Wig secured, her femininity was even less discernible.
    Outside her room, the din grew. With one hand on the door’s latch, she bit her lip, contemplating whether she should remain in her room. Hide. She had settled in so late yesterday, she had yet to make the acquaintance of all the staff and could not stop her shiver of nervousness. Someone might uncover her deception…perhaps the master himself, if he was about. Another shiver coursed through her. Unlikely. At this early hour, he would still be abed.
    She would have to face her new world sooner or late. Sucking in a deep breath, Fallon pushed open the door and stepped into the corridor, immediately discovering that she was not the only one roused from bed.
    A horde of servants scurried down the corridor. She was scarcely spared a glance as she filed into step with them, clambering up the servants’ stairs. Excited murmurs filled the air, the steady drone of voices a backdrop to the loud shouts carrying from the second floor.
    “What’s he done now?” a maid giggled behind her hand, bright eyes dancing.
    “Might have something to do with the tart he brought home last night.” Another maid cheerfully volunteered, blushing when she caught Fallon’s stare.
    At that blush Fallon recalled herself—she was not Fallon anymore but Francis.Francis . The name tripped through her head in a silent mantra. She squared her shoulders and joined the rest of the servants hanging their heads over the railing to watch the spectacle below.
    Mrs. Davies, the housekeeper Mr. Adams had introduced her to yesterday, waved a broom overhead and chased a woman attired in a scarlet evening gown down the stairs. Large melonlike breasts jiggled, nearly spilling free of the indecently low-cut bodice.
    “Out! Out with you, you thieving