A Duke to Remember (A Season for Scandal Book 2) Read Online Free

that were wafting up.
    “Things must have gone poorly if you’re thinking of the old farm and wishing to milk cows again, little sister.” The drawl came from inside the doorway and Elise turned to find her brother leaning against the frame, his booted feet crossed and a half glass of whiskey in his hand.
    He had hazel eyes as Elise did, though his tended toward dark amber while her own languished closer to green. They also shared the same dark, coffee-colored hair, though his possessed none of the wave that made hers curl. He was tall and lean, and the scar that started at his ear and ran over his cheekbone to catch at his lip gave him an intimidating appearance.
    He stepped forward and made to kiss Elise on the cheek, before eyeing her beard in distaste and thinking better of it. Elise plucked the glass from his hand and took a bracing swallow, allowing the liquor to blaze a trail of fire down her throat.
    “That bad?” Alex asked with some sympathy.
    “Worse.” She drained what was left. “They have the duchess chained to her bed and drugged, and I’m quite certain Francis Ellery is paying to have her kept that way.” She pressed the cool glass to her forehead. “She’s utterly helpless.”
    “Is she mad?”
    “I don’t believe she is. But even if she were, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” She shuddered slightly. “I can’t leave her like that, Alex. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
    “I know,” Alex said gently. “We’ll get this sorted. But we’ll do it one step at a time.”
    Elise nodded and took a deep breath. “Of course.” She was letting too many of her own emotions muddy the waters here. And emotions had no place in this job. If she really wanted to help the duchess, she needed to focus on fact. “Tell me what you were able to find out about Francis Ellery,” she said.
    “Come,” Alex urged, as he ushered her farther into the drawing room. “If we’re going to talk about Francis Ellery, I’m going to need more whiskey.”
    Elise followed him into the room decorated in soothing shades of blue. A long Edward East clock kept time against the far wall, while beautifully carved furniture pieces upholstered in sumptuous brocades were arranged over the Aubusson rug at their feet. It was a room meant to impress and put even their most privileged clients at ease.
    Alex plucked the glass from her hand and refilled it generously from a collection of crystal decanters along a rosewood sideboard. He handed the glass back to her before pouring another for himself and took a seat on the sofa, settling back into the plush cushions.
    “Would you care to sit?” he inquired.
    “I’ll stand.” It was all she could do not to pace.
    “Suit yourself.”
    Elise took a more measured sip from her glass. “Tell me about Francis Ellery,” she repeated.
    “Francis Ellery”—Alex’s top lip turned up, pulling at his scar—“does not gamble at my establishment.”
    “He doesn’t gamble?”
    Alex swirled the contents of his glass. “I didn’t say that. He gambles heavily, but he no longer does so under my roof. He is a liar and a cheat. Two things I can never have on my gaming floor, if only because, together, they inevitably lead to violence. Which of course inevitably leads to the destruction of beautiful property, namely my own. You’ve no idea how difficult it is to get bloodstains out of baize. Ghastly expensive, those faro tables.”
    “So you’ve told me. On multiple occasions,” Elise said dryly. “What else?”
    “Mr. Ellery has a number of gambling debts. Very large debts. And word is that the collectors are becoming impatient.”
    “Ah. I can imagine Mr. Ellery is all the more eager to have the Ashland title in hand.”
    Alex peered at Elise. “Are you aware of how much wealth is associated with the dukedom? The real property alone is staggering. The last duke was one of the single richest landholders in all of Southern England.”
    “I am aware.” She paused.