The Duke’s Obsession Bundle by Grace Burrowes Read Free Book Online Page A

close to costing me my father.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said again, turning to stand beside him, laying a hand on his back. He heard her sharp intake of breath as she realized her error—his shirt was still off. He didn’t move off, though, but waited to see how she’d manage. Her hand was comforting, and without him willing it, his own slid along her waist and drew her against his side.
    She remained facing the gardens, her expression impassive, her breath moving in a measured rhythm,her hand resting on his back as if it had arrived there despite her complete indifference to him as a person. Slowly, he relaxed, sensing her innate decency had, for just a few moments, trumped her notions of propriety, class distinction, and personal rectitude.
    She offered comfort, he decided. Just comfort, for him, upon his recounting some very dark moments and his frustration and helplessness in those moments.
    But what about for her?
    He turned her to face him, brought her slowly against his body, and rested his cheek against her temple.
    Just that, but it changed the tenor of the moment from gestures of comfort to the embrace of a man and a woman. His arms draped over her shoulders while hers looped at his naked waist, even as he told himself to end this folly immediately ,or she’d have grounds for believing he trifled with the help after all.
    She didn’t end it. She stood in the loose circle of his arms, letting him positively wallow in the clean summery scent of her, the soft curves fitting him in all the right places. He urged her with patient strokes of his hands on her back to rest more fully against him, to give him her weight. He wasn’t even aroused, he realized, he was just… consoled.
    When he finally did step back, he placed a single finger softly against her lips to stop her from the admonitory and apologetic stammers no doubt damming up behind her conscience.
    “None of that.” He shook his head, his expression solemn. “This wasn’t on my list either, Anna Seaton.”
    She didn’t tarry to find out if he would say more, but shook her head in dismay, no curtsy, noresounding whack to his cheek, no offer of resignation. She left him, heir to the dukedom, standing half dressed, bruised, and alone on his private balcony.

    “His lordship begs the favor of yer comp’ny, mum,” John Footman informed the housekeeper. Except, Anna knew, the man’s name really was John, and his father and grandfather before him had also both, for a time, been footmen in the ducal household.
    “He’s in the library?” Anna asked, putting her mending aside with a sigh.
    “He is,” John replied, “and in a proper taking over summat.”
    “Best I step lively.” Anna smiled at the young man, who looked worried for her. She squared her mental shoulders and adopted a businesslike—but certainly not anxious—gait. It had been a week since she’d clobbered the earl with a poker, a few days since that awkward scene on his balcony. She’d tended his bruises for the last time this morning, and he’d been nothing more than his usual acerbic, imperious self.
    She knocked with a sense of trepidation nonetheless.
    “Come.” The word was barked.
    “Mrs. Seaton.” He waved her over to his desk. “Take a chair; I need your skills.”
    She took a seat and reluctantly agreed with the footman. His lordship was in a taking, or a snit, or an upset over something. The faint frown that often marked his features was a scowl, and his manner peremptory to the point of rudeness.
    “My man of business is unable to attend me, andthe correspondence will not wait. There’s paper, pen, and ink.” He nodded at the edge of the desk. “Here, take my seat, and I’ll dictate. The first letter goes to Messrs. Meechum and Holly, as follows…”
    Good morning to you, too, Anna thought, dipping her pen. An hour and a half and six lengthy letters later, Anna’s hand was cramping.
    “The next letter, which can be a memorandum, is to go to Morelands. A