With This Kiss: Part One by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online Page A

Papa,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.
    “I won’t allow him to marry Lily,” he said, touching the painting with a finger. “He couldn’t see what lay before him. I won’t give him another of my girls to overlook.”
    Grace shrugged. “It’s all right, Papa. I’ve put him behind me.”
    The duke wrapped up the painting again. “Colin has to be the stupidest man I know.” He paused. “Actually, I have a lot in common with him.”
    Grace sat down on the sofa and drew up her feet under her. “Do you mean because you went away to sea and left Mama behind?”
    “Exactly,” her father said, going back to making a neat package of the painting. “I was worse than Colin, actually, because I was already married to your mother, and I knew I loved her.”
    “But she told you to leave,” Grace said, repeating the story that they all loved. “She told you to leave and never come back, and you didn’t return for seven years.”
    “That’s right,” the duke said. “Given my profound stupidity in obeying her, I can hardly say anything about Captain Barry’s idiocy.” He looked up, and suddenly he looked like a pirate again. “Of course, if he comes around here and tries to woo either of my daughters, I’ll disembowel him.”
    Grace laughed. “Sir Griffin wouldn’t like that.”
    “He wouldn’t, would he?” The duke’s laugh welcomed a fight with his closest friend.
    “I think I’ll go take a bath,” she said, tired to the bone.
    “I’ll send this out,” he said. “And I’ll put in a note from myself as well.”
    Grace continued up the stairs. She didn’t really care what her father wrote in that note.

 
    Eight
    L ily’s letter arrived six weeks after Colin left London. At first he thought, happily, that it was a letter from Grace, and then felt ashamed on opening it. He had fallen in love with Lily; of course, he should welcome her letter above anyone else’s.
    Even now the memory of that ball—the pretty girls, the delicious food, the intoxicating champagne—made him grin. That was the England he longed for, and by marrying Lily he would be a part of it. She had always been such a sweet, laughing presence, even as a child.
    Lily’s letter was written in round, rather childlike script.
    Dear Captain Barry,
    I went to three balls last week and danced until well past midnight at each of them, but they weren’t as much fun without a bosky captain at my side. Papa says that it is improper for me to write you, but I thought I would anyway. I like breaking his rules. I tell him that it keeps him young. This week we are looking forward to two balls, a masquerade, and a musical breakfast. London is quite a whirl of gaiety. When I think how tedious you must find your life, it quite breaks my heart. If you found your way to Paris, I’m sure you would be happy. I think that the French court must be like heaven on earth. How I wish Papa would take us there! I do hope this letter finds you well. I’ll probably stop here, as I’m not much of a writer—I prefer dancing.
    Colin read the letter four times. It was manifestly the letter of a charming young lady. Of course her life was a whirl of gaiety. Of course it was.
    That night he lay in his berth staring up at the wood planks above his head. A small spider had found its way on board, and it was building a web, hoping to catch flies. There were no flies on board ship that Colin had seen.
    He watched as the spider carefully, carefully dropped a slender, elegant line of silk from the ceiling to the wooden wall against which his berth was fixed. It was very busy, quickly running back to its origin point, adding more radial lines, then, beginning at the center, a spiral of connecting threads.
    After a while, he read the letter once again, squinting in the candlelight. Lily’s gaiety shone from every word. She would make some man, a man with dancing feet and a dancing soul to match, a beautiful wife.
    He would not be that man.
    There was