B00Q5W7IXE (R) Read Online Free Page A

stuff this”—she lifted the first object she encountered on the seat beside her—“blanket down your throat.”
    Helena removed her hand, and Sophia made a show of pressing her lips together.
    “Now then, why are you here? My husband is retired from the Barbican group.”
    “Precisely what I was just saying,” Blue added, his voice rising. “I’ve retired. Must I put it in writing?”
    “Baron would only tear it up,” Adrian said. “You’re too valuable to retire.”
    Helena drew in a fortifying breath. Would the Barbican ever release him from its hold?
    “ You retired,” Blue said, pointing an accusatory finger at the couple.
    “Not true,” Sophia answered. “We consult from time to time.”
    “And recruit,” Adrian added.
    “Recruit elsewhere.” Blue rapped on the roof and the coach, once again, jounced to a standstill. He pushed the door open and a gust of freezing air ruffled Helena’s gown.
    “Good night, Lady Smythe, Lord Smythe,” Blue said.
    “Consider what I said, Blue,” Lord Smythe murmured before stepping into the chilly darkness. He held out a hand for his wife.
    “Good night, Ernie. Enjoy the ball.”
    Blue slammed the door and rapped the roof again. He all but threw himself into the space beside Helena.
    The coach lurched into motion. Inside silence reigned. Finally, Helena cleared her throat.
    “Should we leave them out there? It’s bitterly cold.”
    “Good,” Blue said with a scowl. “I hope it snows.”
    But his gaze returned to the window and his hand went again to his pocket, smoothing over the material like a lover might a lock of his beloved’s hair.
    Was it the Smythes or his wife he wished left out in the cold?

Three
     
    The clock had just struck midnight when Blue led Helena into the Ely ballroom. The butler announced them, but the company currently danced a lively reel and no one took much notice.
    The large rectangular room—in which as a child he’d often played hide-and-seek—was draped in evergreen garlands, sprigs of holly, and dozens of arrangements of Christmas roses. Throughout the room, kissing boughs of evergreens, mistletoe, and apples hung from red ribbons. Couples paused under the boughs to exchange chaste kisses before continuing their promenade around the ballroom.
    Thoughts of kissing led him back to Helena. She stood beside him, peering about the room with avid interest.
    “I don’t think you saw the ballroom when you were last here.”
    She gave him a rueful smile. “I saw the drawing room and your father’s wrath before we fled like the naughty children we were. I truly hope we have finally been forgiven.”
    “It’s Christmas. Even the Duke of Ely cannot hold a grudge at Christmas.”
    She raised a brow, and he lifted the invitation, waving it before her nose. “Just in case, I have brought this. We were officially invited.”
    At least he was.
    “We should find my parents.”
    She nodded, and reluctantly placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
    The duke and duchess stood across the room, where they would have a splendid view of the guests entering and leaving. He was in no hurry to speak with his parents, but he could hardly put it off without breaking custom.
    Not that he gave a damn about custom. Correction: Blue did not give a damn about custom. Ernest was the son of a duke and a man of property—or he would be if he ever bought land. Ernest Bloomington adhered to social customs.
    As they neared, the duchess’s chin went up and she shifted. Helena’s hand on his arm tightened. Blue had the distinct feeling he was walking into an ambush, but he forced his legs to move forward, despite the warning bells clanging in his mind. He bowed to his mother and father.
    “Duke. Duchess.” Blue inclined his head to each in turn, as Helena curtsied and murmured a greeting. “You remember my wife, Lady Ernest.”
    He might abhor his name, but there were times it proved useful.
    Standing before his parents, Blue marveled at their