The Accidental Duchess by Madeline Hunter Read Free Book Online

She even felt the warmth of his body through the fabric.
    “My apologies, Lydia. There was a depression in the ground and a small jump saved you much discomfort.” His voice, low and masculine, flowed into her ear.
    She pulled away and tried to straighten her bonnet with one hand. A stream of water poured off the center of the brim, right onto her nose. She looked a fright, she knew. Fortunately she did not worry whether she impressed Penthurst. He was the last man in the world whose opinion she cared about.
    “It is rather fancy.” She pointed her nose to the waistcoat since she dared not let go of the saddle and use a finger. “You have not totally reformed your taste. You no longer wear the satins and gold braid, and you finally cut off that queue, but you will make your point anyway, won’t you?”
    “I do not understand the desire gentlemen have today for looking like bankers. These plain styles are only a fashion, and will pass.”
    “It has not been a small change, like a new sleeve. All of you appear very different from how you appeared ten years ago. I do not believe the old ways will come back, for men at least, because this is more democratic. You do not truly look like a banker. However, the distinction between you and a banker is far less visible now than in the past.”
    “Do you believe that is a good thing?”
    “What I believe does not matter. It simply is the way it is.”
    “That is a slippery answer. No wonder your brother worries about you, if you respond to his questions like that.” He lowered his head so he spoke right into her ear. “Or do you have no opinions, Lydia? Is the mind as blank as the face? I do not think so. I suspect there are many opinions behind that mask, even high passions, that you dare not allow others to know. Perhaps you put up a wall to keep us all from seeing the truth in you.”
    His warm breath sent a shiver through her. His speculation passed close to the truth, distressingly close. The intimacy of his comments, made all the more startling by his pressing physicality, reminded her of the one other time he had spoken to her like this, as a man might speak to a woman, and not just the sister of a friend. This time it did not shock her as much, but then what he said now did not carry the same danger.
    She had put the memory of that other time in a room in her head, closed the door, and never looked at it again. Now, it burst forth, bringing with it once more her confusion, then shock, then resentment. Despite the way it made their intimacy on this horse more awkward, she welcomed the memory because she realized she might have a way to find that ten thousand after all.
    “It must not be a good wall that I build,” she stammered, clutching at her poise as desperately as the saddle. “If you can see through it with such ease, either it is transparent, or your conceit lends your sight abilities only you can trust.”
    She fixed her gaze on the houses passing by her view, but she felt him there, warming her shoulder, paying too much attention. Did she imagine that those shirtsleeves moved closer together, closing on her? Not to steady her either. As they trotted down the cobblestone street she bumped all the more, now to and fro. Her back kept hitting his arm. She had to brace herself hard to avoid her breast doing the same to the arm in front.
    Finally they entered Berkeley Square. He slowed the horse to a sedate walk. They approached her house just as Ambury swung Sarah off his saddle. Sarah, who had rarely ridden on a horse, looked delighted and giddy. She and Ambury laughed about something. Then the door opened, and a tall, dark-haired man stepped out. Her brother.
    He said something to Sarah. She made a quick curtsy, and darted in out of the rain. Ambury gestured up the lane. Southwaite turned and, with a curious expression, his dark eyes watched Penthurst’s horse.
    Grooms came to hold the horses. Southwaite stepped down to the street. “I see you found some