The Irish Duchess by Patricia Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

excellent, I do enjoy a man who’s so full of himself that he does not know when he’s not wanted.” She kept the edge out of her voice. Maybe if she just sounded weary, he would go away.
    “I have a proposition for you,” he said, apropos of nothing.
    A proposition. Oh, fine and dandy. He would make her his mistress and give her fine jewels, perhaps. For a moment, Fiona considered the possibility. Jewels would buy food for orphans and widows. He spoke again before she could decide whether to kill him or accept him.
    “I don’t want Blanche burdened with an obnoxious brat. Her generosity stretches her strength too far. I considered leaving you here, but it’s obvious that isn’t a safe solution either.”
    “There’s an understatement for you,” Fiona murmured, staring at the empty grate. “If I kill McGonigle, someone would feel called upon to see me hanged. And if I don’t kill him, I’ll provoke him until he kills me. One of us has to go. And since it’s not likely McGonigle is looking for a solution to our problems, then I suppose it’s up to me. You wouldn’t happen to know any rich men, would you?”
    She hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts out loud, leastwise, not to the wretched duke. But once said, they took on a life of their own. She’d threatened it before. She hadn’t really meant it. There wasn’t a man alive she could consider as husband. But a wealthy man, now... That had possibilities. An old man, one who would leniently smile on her wishes as her Uncle William did. One who would give her funds to buy looms and provide for Aileen’s orphans.
    “I know a great many rich men.”
    She’d like to slap the smug expression off his face, even if she couldn’t see it. But she was learning not to underestimate the duke. She might despise what he stood for, but she couldn’t despise his intelligence.
    A man of rank and power had loftier responsibilities than concerning himself with a lone female in a distant land. Yet now that he was here and doing just that, she would exploit his knowledge.
    Rather than leap at his declaration, she waited, almost feeling his sharp look when she didn’t reply. She suspected his gray eyes grew cold as stone when he was thwarted.
    “I could sponsor you in London, see that your come-out is a huge success, arrange for every wealthy bachelor in the country to beg at your door.”
    “In return for what?” Fiona asked with instant suspicion.
    “In return for your complete obedience,” he replied with the satisfaction of a cat purring over cream.
    She didn’t even know the meaning of the word “obedience.” He didn’t know what he asked.
    “I’ll not have you giving Blanche a moment’s concern,” he warned. “You’ll deck yourself out in the clothes of her choice, speak politely or not at all, and behave as every other young female in society. In return, you’ll have your choice of wealthy husbands. Defy me, and I’ll cut you cold, and all society will do the same. Believe me, a duke has that power.”
    He didn’t say, “ I have that power.” He’d said, “A duke has that power.” Fiona didn’t know why that made a difference to her, but it did. It was honest. Had he not held the title of duke, he couldn’t have made any man in England look at her twice. But a duke...
    There was something perversely gratifying in knowing she could use the aristocracy she despised for her own purposes. How long would it take to wrap a man around her finger and get her hands in his pockets? Other women did it all the time. She could do it too—for Aileen’s children, and the looms, and for poor murdered Burke, may he rest in peace.
    “All right,” she agreed, “You see before you the very model of obedience.” She ignored the duke’s exceedingly impolite snort.

Five
    Entering the shadowed foyer from the sunshine outside on the morning of their departure, Neville blinked and paused to orient himself.
    He’d given Fiona additional time for packing, not