The Nude (full-length historical romance) by Dorothy McFalls Read Free Book Online Page B

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    Georgette, the lady’s maid originally assigned to her, had been much more interested in pleasing Lord Mercer than attending to any of Elsbeth’s needs. Georgette’s seductive presence, jealous rages, and seemingly innocent lapses in memory proved to be a dangerous combination.
    After the girl had created a situation where Elsbeth was “discovered” by Lord Mercer alone in her bedchamber with one of the estate’s footmen—the consequences Elsbeth shuddered to remember—she knew, for her own safety’s sake, that Georgette had to go.
    Molly, a plain girl, strong and silent, became her saving grace. The younger woman, proud of her new position, had quickly assumed the role of Elsbeth’s keeper. Together they persevered against Lord Mercer . . . and his violent rages. She doubted she’d have been able to survive without her lady’s maid’s unbreakable cheerfulness, strength, and friendship.
    “Well?” Molly scoffed. “Are ye planning on commentin’ on the gown or no?”
    Elsbeth shook her head to clear away those shadowy memories. “Yes, of course, that pink gown should suit.” Not that she could fathom what manner of dress she should choose to tell her uncle of her plans to refuse Lord Edgeware’s summons to attend his house party.
    Less than a quarter hour later, she made her way downstairs and paused in the doorway of the breakfast room. The stormy weather had broken sometime during the night, and the sun poured into the windows filling even the corners of the room with a warm light.
    And that was where she found him —the demon himself dressed in gentleman’s finery—standing in front of the sideboard, grinning from behind sparkling onyx eyes, and spooning a serving of eggs onto his plate as if he were in his own home.
    It wasn’t by the farthest stretch of one’s imagination a decent hour to be visiting. How dare he make such a breach of etiquette and enter her home?
    And what in blazes had he said to Lord Baneshire?
    “Good morning, Elsbeth,” her uncle said. He was clearly beside himself with excitement. “Please, join us.” He motioned toward the empty chair next to his wife. Even her wan cheeks held a blush of color as she smiled upon the gentleman who looked too young to be a marquess.
    Elsbeth felt no need to be taken in by Edgeware’s dashing looks, which were a good deal more striking in this morning’s bright sunlight than in the dim light of the dreary day before. He was too handsome by half . A nd by the arrogant way he held himself , she could tell he knew the havoc his stunning good looks could do to a lady’s knees.
    He turned toward her. His expression became serious as he gazed at her for a moment with a smoldering under-look that made her think of dark carnal desires. Repressed desires.
    Her breath caught deep in her chest.
    Lord Baneshire missed their sinfully improper albeit silent exchange as he rose from the table. “Edgeware, please allow me to present my niece, Elsbeth, the dowager Countess of Mercer.”
    “My lady,” he said smoothly, “the Earl of Mercer was your husband? My sympathies.”
    She blinked twice, still feeling somewhat unbalanced and uncertain of the feelings his simmering gaze was provoking. Purposefully provoking, no doubt.
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
    “Elsbeth!” her uncle gasped, his brows rising sharply.
    “I beg your forgiveness, Uncle, Lord Edgeware,” she said, carefully avoiding the Marquess’s gaze. The tingling that spread through her belly must have been sparked by those seductive eyes of his. She stared at her satiny kid slippers instead. “I meant no insult. It is just that I’m unaccustomed to receiving guests so early in the morning, and in the breakfast room. Is this a new London custom I’ve not yet been made aware?”
    A tense silence followed her less than sincere apology. She dared to chance a peek. The dark lord, as she was beginning to think of him, tilted his head and stared at her in the most