The Duchess War (The Brothers Sinister) by Courtney Milan Read Free Book Online Page B

his face. “You don’t miss much, do you? I can’t believe Gardley called you a rodent. You’re the most formidable mouse I’ve ever met.”
    He placed his index finger atop her hand. It wasn’t a caress. It couldn’t be a caress. Still, her entire being seemed to freeze in place, fixed by that solitary point of contact. “My dear,” he said. “I give you my word that you’ll have an offer of marriage before I leave. Even if I have to do the job myself.”
    She jumped to her feet, pushing away from him. “That’s not funny,” she said, not even bothering to moderate her tone. “It’s not a joke, no matter what you might think, and I’ll thank you to stop treating it as one.”
    She’d knocked her teacup off the table and onto her foot in her attempt to escape from him and his horrible proposition. She could feel the wet liquid seeping into her stockings. But he made no comment; he simply straightened the tray on the table. Behind them, Lydia’s brows had drawn down; she watched them uneasily.
    “Well, then,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’ll do it my way, and you try it yours—and we’ll see who wins out.”
    “That’s impossible,” she said flatly. “You can’t flirt with me. I’m going to be at war with you.”
    “No, you won’t,” he said politely. “Try going to war with an unwilling combatant. I don’t think even you can manage that.”
    “You don’t know what I can manage.”
    “No.” He gave her a broad grin, one that started sparks flying in her belly.
    And then he stood up and took her hand. This time, he bowed over it—bowed so low that his lips brushed the curve of her palm. She’d removed her gloves, and she felt the light kiss he brushed against her hand from head to toe.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m looking forward to finding out.”

Chapter Four

    R AIN DOTTED THE WINDOWPANES of Robert’s upstairs study, dissolving the world outside into murky swirls. The two women on the street below appeared as receding blobs of fluttering skirts under dark umbrellas. Pale blue—that was Miss Charingford—and dark brown—that was the inimitable Miss Pursling. From above, nothing set Miss Pursling apart from any other umbrella on the street. If he hadn’t seen her gown just a few minutes ago, he’d not even have realized who it was.
    He felt as if he’d woken up, weak and confused, only to be told that he’d spent the last three weeks in bed with a fever—and that during his illness, Queen Victoria had abdicated the throne and run off with a lion-tamer from Birmingham. The world seemed an entirely different place. And yet there stood Miss Pursling, pausing to stand under an awning on the corner, turning to her friend and twirling her umbrella as if nothing had happened.
    As if she hadn’t just upended his every expectation.
    The door opened quietly behind him and footsteps approached. He didn’t need to look to see who was coming; the servants in this household were still too much in awe of him to approach without begging for permission. That left only one possibility—Mr. Oliver Marshall.
    “So,” Oliver said from behind him. “Was it as bad as you feared?”
    Robert drummed his fingers against the windowsill and pondered how to respond. “Two young ladies came to solicit a contribution for the Workers’… Oh, Devil take it. I can’t remember—oh yes. The Workers’ Hygiene Commission.”
    There were very few secrets that Robert kept from Oliver. He’d not mentioned Miss Pursling last night. For one, it hadn’t seemed important, and for another, if there was a secret there, it belonged to her, not him. This, though… This touched on one of the few secrets he had no choice but to keep from Oliver.
    “I see. They came to gawk at you.” There was a hint of humor in the other man’s voice, and he came to stand next to him. He peered out the window too, frowning when he saw nothing of interest.
    “No, actually.” Across the way, Miss