The Duke's Indiscretion by Adele Ashworth Read Free Book Online

reticule in the chair, walking to the grate and gazing up to a magnificent oil painting of two lovely women sitting in a lush and colorful garden. Family, she decided, for the ladies looked just like him.
    â€œActually, your grace,” she revealed, studying the portrait, “I’m here for more than just a request for my pianoforte.”
    She knew without glancing his way that he was taking in all of her person with shrewd speculation, and for that reason alone she’d worn her best gown, cut low across her breasts and tightly corseted, why she’d piled her unruly hair on her head with dainty elegance instead of pulling it back in a simple ribbon. She wanted him to notice her.
    At last he replied, “I’m not sure what else I can do for you, Lady Charlotte, though I am willing to give you back the instrument of your desire.”
    The instrument of her desire. If only he knew.
    Smiling, still focusing on the painting, her stomach tightly coiled in knots, she admitted in a tone of deep shyness, “You could marry me.”
    After several long seconds of a riveting silence, she feared he might burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and she’d prepared herself for just such a response. But to his credit, his reaction seemed a bit more staid, as if he were thinking not of what a marvelous proposal she’d offered, but of how to get her out of his townhouse, and quickly.
    Smiling, she pivoted to look at him squarely, and the expression on his face was, indeed, priceless. Beyond shock, his features were contorted in absolute confusion, his brows furrowed hard, his mouth opened slightly in total stupefaction at her outrageous pronouncement.
    Since he seemed so at a loss for words, she shrugged lightly and added, “You do need a wife, and I desperately need a husband. What union could possibly be more…agreeable?”
    Finally, recovering himself, he stood very slowly, resting one hand on his hip while raking the other through his hair.
    She waited, knowing he had absolutely no idea what to say to her, and likely thinking her insane.
    â€œUh…Lady Charlotte,” he began, his voice controlled but suddenly gravelly. “I…um…don’t need a wife any more than I need a pianoforte.”
    â€œBut I can play beautifully,” she returned in pure innocence, containing her joy at his delicious response.
    He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with harsh fingertips. “I’m certain you can, but that’s not the point.”
    Poor man. He really was squirming in his boots, though she had to give him credit for not attempting to throw her out in disgust. “I realize the pianoforte has nothing to do with marriage, your grace, but really, don’t you think marriage would be far more…acceptable socially than simply taking me as your mistress?”
    That struck him like a blow to the gut. His head shot up; his eyes opened wide as he stared at her aghast. “I beg your pardon?”
    She fairly glided toward him, with deliberate slowness, her hands clasped behind her back as she focused on the clean, expensive carpeting at her feet, denying him the amusement, the satisfaction, in hereyes. “I’m sure you’re aware, sir, how everyone speculates about your latest…trifle, shall we say. And to rid yourself of such unseemly gossip, I could bring some respectability back to your name. I’m the sister of an earl, an earl in some debt, as you’re very much aware, and I think we could…help each other with our…mutual needs.”
    Lifting her lashes, she gazed up at him again, standing very close to him now, noticing how he gaped at her, his beautifully sculpted face flushed, with embarrassment she hoped, how his perfectly chiseled muscles bunched tautly beneath his expertly pressed linen shirt. He appeared nothing short of astounded at her boldness.
    She waited, staring into his eyes until he answered, said