The Duke's Obsession (Entangled Scandalous) by Frances Fowlkes Read Free Book Online Page A

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    Edward’s fingers rubbed together, the thin stem of the bedraggled rose growing soft and limp in his grasp.
    Well, damn.
    Just as the first man had lusted after the forbidden fruit, he, too, now found himself coveting that which he had been denied: the companionship of the intriguing Miss Farrington.
    Good Lord, she was an enigma. Like ice and fire, cool and distant in her demeanor, yet with an obvious disdain for his countrymen simmering beneath the thin veneer of her polite, but pointed, barbs.
    And yet, even with her contempt for his compatriots, he couldn’t help but notice the attractive flush of her face or the slight widening of her eyes whenever he got a little too close.
    Irony, it seemed, was having a laugh at his expense. And just when he was about to brush off the girl and assume her to be like all the rest…
    Edward lifted his head and caught a glimpse of the white and pink trimmed muslin of Miss Farrington’s gown. Her gloved hand rested in the crook of Westbrook’s arm, which, he noted, was a bit closer to her person than was polite. In fact, Westbrook’s entire body was far closer than propriety demanded. If the pair had been sitting, he wasn’t entirely certain that the young lord wouldn’t have been so bold as to place Miss Farrington directly on his lap.
    Had Edward not set about to protect her from such churls? And there she was, parading around with Westbrook, one of the worst he’d had the misfortune of inviting to this afternoon’s event. The boy could hardly be over two and twenty. And having just come into the title, he had none of the sense of a man honed by aristocratic duties. The young earl’s family seat, a large and floundering estate in Sussex, was threatened by a lack of funds—some of which Edward had only recently relieved from the lad during a rousing hand at Whites. Had he known the financial straits the young lord was in, he never would have bet against him, but Westbrook had been so brash and loose with his coin, Edward couldn’t help but teach the boy a lesson.
    And with the look of revulsion settled on Miss Farrington’s face, it looked as if Westbrook needed another tutorial.
    “Edward.”
    He lifted his head and turned, his shoulders stiffening at the disapproving tone in the all too familiar voice. “Mother.”
    She cast him a speculative glance, her eyes narrowing as they fell upon the bedraggled rose still clutched within his grasp. “Lady Isabella is with her mother.”
    “Indeed, and so am I. How very coincidental.”
    She drew in a long breath, the fine lines around her mouth deepening as she pursed her lips. “I wish for you to accompany me to her side.”
    Of course she did. And because he was ever the considerate son, he would accommodate her. But damn if he didn’t first set his conscience to right before he was forced into ducal duties and dull conversation by her persistent and unwanted hand.
    “And so I shall, Mother. But before I do, I was wondering if you have seen Lady Amhurst. I’m afraid the one guest who decided to converse with Miss Farrington has infringed upon my hospitality and overstepped the bounds of decorum.”
    His mother’s eyes immediately darted to the opprobrious scene behind him. Her nostrils flaring ever so slightly and she cleared her throat. “The countess and her daughters are enjoying tea with Lady Charlotte on the west side of the lawn. Five minutes. And remind the earl of his manners. I do not wish to have a scandal at my luncheon.”
    His lips curled into a smile. “As you wish.”
    …
    Given the number of people in attendance, divided by the ratio of aristocrats to servants, and taking into consideration the size of the lawn and the area to which the guests were confined, the odds of finding at least one of her four dark-haired relations were still in her favor. Yet, even with such mathematically supported calculations, Daphne was unable to catch sight of even one of them. And that, coupled with the sudden and