The Duke by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online

beautiful lashes were unfortunate. She’d even learned how to look up through her lashes to achieve the greatest effect. Who had taught her that?
    â€œWhy, Brandy? Why don’t you want me to get near Percy? He’s lovely, lovelier than any man we’ll ever meet in these parts. Do ye want him for yerself? Is that the reason? Aye, that’s it, I know it.”
    Brandy’s hand itched to slap her sister. No, she thought, she had to reason with her, gain her belief in what she was being told.
    â€œConnie,” she said very slowly, “I wouldn’t want Percy even if the only other man available was the devil himself.” She saw that Connie didn’t believe her, that her sister probably didn’t care what came out of her mouth. “Ye know, Connie, Percy is really quite old. Why, he must be nearly thirty.” She tried for a convincing shudder. “And he drinks so much—it’s likely he’ll have gout just like Uncle Claude. He’ll probably have a red, veiny nose like Uncle Claude too. He’ll probably lose most of his teeth, just like Uncle Claude. Och, I shouldn’t want to be married to a man like that.”
    â€œWhat a pack of nonsense. Those long braids of yers, Brandy, I think they’ve tugged yer brain too tight. Percy, old? That’s ridiculous. He’s perfect and he’ll remain that way.”
    Brandy was depressed. She walked to the edge of the grassy cliff and gazed out to sea. The size of the white caps on the waves, the tide level, and the darkening horizon surely meant a violent early springstorm was close. She tried to remember if she had tied her small boat firmly to its moorings, for the storm that was brewing would send crashing waves even into the small inlet.
    â€œIt’s going to blow up strong tonight,” she said more to herself than to her sister. She kicked a pebble off the edge of the cliff and watched it bounce down the narrow, rocky path and land in the sand on the beach below.
    She turned back toward her sister and sank slowly to her knees amid the thick carpet of bluebells and wild anemones that grew in great abundance nearly to the cliff edge. She breathed in the sweet fragrance of the purple-blue flowers and for a moment forgot Percy and her too-grown-up little sister.
    â€œBrandy, it’s time to go back now. Ye’ll get yer skirt stained, and Old Marta will complain to Grandmama.”
    Brandy sighed and slowly rose to her feet. The wind was rising, whipping her skirt about her ankles. She tightened her thick tartan shawl about her shoulders. “I suppose since Percy is here that we’ll have to change for dinner.”
    She wished she hadn’t said Percy’s name aloud again, for Constance’s very lovely eyes took on a sultry cast. Oh, dear, where had she learned that?
    Brandy tried another track. “Well, you just might think him handsome, but ye’re but sixteen years old, a mere child to him. I’ve heard Grandmama say that he likes his women round and soft and experienced in the art of love. When I asked her what kind of art that was, she threw a pillow at me and started choking. But that’s not important. What’s important is Percy is not only our cousin, he’s too old for you. He’s too old for me as well, and I’ve two years on ye. Forget him, Connie.” She paused then laughed. “Don’t forget hehasn’t a groat. What would one do with a man who hasn’t a groat?”
    Well, she had tried. She watched Constance gather together her bile. She actually seemed to puff up with it. “Me, a child? Ye’re just jealous, that’s what you are. It’s ye who wear the child’s dresses. And yer ratty braids and that snaggled old shawl. Ye look ridiculous. Well, I have no intention of shriveling into an old spinster, alone and poor in this beastly place. Stay if ye wish among all the crumbling stone and pick yer stupid wildflowers.