The Duke Who Knew Too Much by Grace Callaway Read Free Book Online Page A

what he wants.
    With utter sangfroid, Alaric said, “Can you blame me for preferring a castle over a cottage?”
    “Even that wasn’t enough for you,” Will said bitterly. “After our parents died, you had the chance to take me in, to make things right between us. God knows there was room to spare in that bluidy castle you lived in. But you talked our uncle out of it, made sure that I wasn’t extended a welcome. Thanks to you, I had no place to go but the regiment!”
    You think the army was bad? You think you know the first thing about violence and brutality? At least on the battlefield, little brother, you could see the bayonets and bullets coming ...
    “Are you quite finished with your rant?” He buffed his nails against his sleeve. “I have appointments to attend to. The business of being a duke, you know.”
    Will looked ready to explode . “I’m finished alright. Finished with you for good .”
    Alaric let him reach the doorway before speaking. “By the by, do send my regards to that lovely wife of yours. ’Tis a shame I don’t see more of Annabel—more than I already have, that is.”
    To his grim satisfaction, his barbed reference made Will’s oaths echo through the halls. Moments later, the front door slammed. Alaric exhaled harshly. He raked both hands through his hair, willed the pounding in his temples to stop.
    A rattling tray heralded Jarvis’ arrival. His rheumy eyes scanned the empty room, the wrinkles on his face deepening. “Where has everyone gone?”
    “To hell for all I care,” Alaric snapped back.

Chapter Five
    That evening after her bath, Emma collapsed on her bed. For one of the rare times in her life, she was too tired to do anything. As if sensing her exhaustion, Tabitha came to curl up against her side. Emma stroked the cat’s soft, striped grey fur as she stared up at the pink canopy, her thoughts as swirling as the damask.
    Accompanied by Ambrose, she’d given her testimony to the magistrates that afternoon.
    She’d had a moral duty to make that report. Her chest tightened as she thought of poor Lady Osgood. There was nothing more that Emma could do, yet her nerves were as tightly strung as a clothesline.
    If Strathaven thinks he can intimidate me into silence just because he is duke, then he is in for a rude awakening , she thought fiercely.
    As far as she was concerned, justice knew no class distinctions. A murderer was a murderer, whether he was a duke or a crossing sweep. And the nerve of the cad, telling her she needed to be kept under rein! Her life had plenty of purpose, and she didn’t need any man—least of all him —telling her what to do. Never had a person angered her so much—or affected her so strangely.
    Just the thought of him sent a buzzing awareness through her. In his presence, all her senses were heightened. She recalled the crackling hostility between them in the drawing room. As he’d towered over her, his lean, muscular frame had radiated leashed power. Silver had flashed in his pale eyes, illuminating for an instant the tempest of emotions he’d held in check. Barely.
    What would happen if he lost control?
    A rapping on the door jerked Emma back to the present. Her breath was puffing from her lips, her skin misted with perspiration. As she sat up, her breasts brushed against her nightclothes, the tips oddly sensitive and tingling.
    “Emma, are you awake?” Her sister Dorothea’s gentle voice drifted through the door.
    “I—I’ll be right there,” she said.
    She took a moment to compose herself; she had no wish to worry her sisters. When she went to unlock the door, Thea, Violet, Polly, and Primrose filed in like a troop of cheerful ghosts in their voluminous lawn night rails.
    “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Emma said to the two youngest.
    While Polly looked abashed, Rosie’s emerald eyes sparkled with mischief.
    “Yes,” the latter said merrily. “So hurry and close the door before Mama catches us!”
    With her flaxen hair