The Ugly Duchess by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online Page A

tipsy!” she exclaimed, with some delight. “I’ve never seen you three sheets to the wind. Are you about to cast up your accounts, or will you just sway gently all night? You look like a hollyhock that someone forgot to stake.”
    “I never sway!” He sounded indignant.
    “You’re swaying now. For goodness’ sake, look at that,” she cried, nodding toward Claribel, who was leaning on Geoffrey’s arm. “You’d think they were already betrothed. Or that she was as bosky as you are. I don’t suppose you got a chance to mention my dowry to Geoffrey at White’s this afternoon?”
    “Funny, that,” James said. “Trevelyan wasn’t at the club, or in my carriage . . . wait . . . because he was here making sheep’s eyes at Lady Claribel. How in bloody hell do you think I had the chance to drop your inheritance into the nonexistent conversation I’ve had with him? Besides, I mentioned it yesterday. That’s good enough.”
    “ He’s not making sheep’s eyes; she is. Oh well, it’s probably better, since you’re drunk anyway and would make a hash of it.”
    “What’s better?” James said, looking more than a little owlish.
    Theo looked up at him and felt a wave of affection. “I do adore you, James. You know that, don’t you?”
    “Don’t say that I’m like a brother to you. Because I’m not your brother, and you should keep that in mind. We should both keep that in mind. That is, we’re not siblings, even though we may feel like siblings. Sometimes.”
    “Perhaps you should take my arm,” Theo suggested. “You’ll be embarrassed tomorrow if you fall at the royal slippers like a chopped tree.”
    “Just back up a trifle,” James said, looking distinctly inebriated. “I’ll lean against the wall and pretend I’m speaking to you for a minute. I may have drunk a bit more cognac than was ad . . . ad . . . advisable. Is my father here?”
    “Certainly he is,” Theo said. “And he’s peeved that you didn’t come home to escort us here. You’re lucky he hasn’t seen you yet.”
    They stood to one side of Carlton House’s music room. Most of the company was grouped in straight-backed chairs, listening raptly to the command performance of the evening. No one seemed to have noticed the two of them at the other end of the room.
    “That fellow is pounding the keys in a way that will give everyone a headache,” James complained, too loudly. “He sounds as awful as you used to, back when your mother still thought you might have a musical bone in your body.”
    “You mustn’t say such a thing! That’s Johann Baptist Cramer, ” Theo exclaimed. But she instantly realized there was no point in being shocked that James didn’t recognize the celebrated pianist. He would never willingly sit through an evening of music.
    If she didn’t do something, he would create a scene. She took his hand and pulled him around the far side of a tall Chinese screen carved in lotus blossoms; at least anyone casually turning about wouldn’t see him collapsing into an inebriated heap. Then she backed against the wall, tugging him over to her.
    James swayed gently toward her, bracing himself by putting his hands against the wall, one on either side of her, creating a little cave that smelled like the best cognac and the outdoors, with just a note of soap.
    “Just give me a moment until my head clears,” he murmured. “What on earth are you thinking? You have the most peculiar look on your face.”
    “I’m smelling you,” Theo said. “I never realized how nice you smell, James.”
    “Huh.” James didn’t seem to know what to make of that, but at least he didn’t seem quite as wobbly as he had a few seconds ago.
    “Perhaps we should find you a cup of tea,” she suggested. For some reason—could it be that odd encounter they had had in her bedchamber the day before?—she was having some trouble thinking of James as casually as she ought. He was hopelessly beautiful. He had all the elegance of his