The Duke of Snow and Apples by Elizabeth Vail Read Free Book Online Page A

like staring into the sun. “I suppose I should practice a few piano pieces to impress him. I’m not a prodigious player, but if I’m charming enough, I could convince him I have some aptitude.”
    “You enjoy planning the pianoforte?”
    “Heavens, no.” She laughed. “I can play well enough, but it’s terribly boring. Who else?”
    “His brother, Mr. Colton.”
    “He’s a nice fellow, but he has the rather difficult flaw of having a very pregnant wife . Maiden’s eyes, Freddy, you were right there in the room with them! Were you staring at me the whole time?”
    “No!” It emerged in a short, sharp burst, and markedly higher in pitch than his regular tone of voice.
    Charlotte’s annoyance evaporated, and she laughed. Somehow, the idea of Freddy trying to get away with ogling her cheered her. “Try again.”
    “Mr. Horace Oswald, miss. I overheard he is a horticulturalist.”
    “Yes. Roses. He told me of them, at excruciating length.” She sighed. “Still, since he doesn’t have an especially large fortune or title, he is the bachelor I have the highest chance with. I shall have to pretend the whole idea of dirt and mold and pruning fascinates me to no end.”
    “Pretend, miss?”
    “Of course,” Charlotte said. She rose from the bed and sidled into the dressing-room, necessitating Freddy to follow her. She sat down at the writing-desk, fiddling with a quill even though she hadn’t anything to write. “I shan’t attract the notice of a gentleman if he thinks I’m indifferent to his interests.” She drew the quill and jabbed it in Freddy’s direction. “And you shall be of no use to me if you’re too busy staring at me to notice anyone else.”
    “I wasn’t staring at you.”
    “Liar.” She couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled over, boiled out of her mouth. Standing two feet away, Freddy kept his face impassive, but the deepening tinge of his cheeks betrayed him.
    He relented. “I’m sorry.” The words emerged harshly, almost involuntarily, an apology as a cough.
    Charlotte, to ease the footman’s embarrassment, returned the conversation to its former track. “What about the gentleman who arrived late last night and was shut away in the smoking room?”
    Freddy’s eyebrows tilted down for a dark moment. “You wouldn’t like him.”
    His vehemence startled her. “Why not? Who is he?”
    His mouth settled into a grim line. “Lord Robert Dor, Viscount Noxley, miss.”
    “Lady Noxley’s son?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you’re so certain he’s not to my taste?”
    “Not unless your taste runs to spoiled, self-indulgent, lazy fops who spend their days swimming blithely through ever-deepening oceans of debt.”
    Charlotte’s gaze drifted to Freddy’s hands, and she noticed they’d curled into fists at some point. Something bothered him enough to loosen his professionalism. After the disastrous effect he’d had on her at dinner, the idea of turning the tables gave her infinite satisfaction.
    “Being a viscount pardons many sins.” She stretched each word out slowly, languorously, as if nothing in this world bothered her enough to do anything active.
    “Does it?” he ground out.
    Encouraged, Charlotte continued. “Out in society, I would hardly even need to see the man. After I produce a few heirs, of course.”
    Freddy squeezed his eyes shut for a second longer than required. A small muscle pulsed in his jaw.
    She decided to raise the stakes. Show him just how it felt to be discomfited and unable to do anything. She laid an arm casually across the back of her chair and lowered her eyelids to stare at him through the veil of her lashes. “And I’ll have my footmen , of course.”
    “Like the hells you will!” he snapped. His eyes flashed, like the reflection of sunlight off sapphires. He stopped. Paled.
    Charlotte crowed her victory.
    His eyes narrowed. “Is this a game?”
    Nearly breathless with mirth, Charlotte replied, “Well, if it is, I’ve won, don’t you