Intimate Betrayal Read Online Free Page B

found him a fascinating challenge and went to great lengths to capture his attention. He found their efforts flattering and occasionally amusing. Yet he never felt any interest in a female until she had made it abundantly clear she would welcome his advances. Until now.
    Morgan glanced speculatively around the dining room as Perkins served the soup. The evening shadows were reflected in the soft glow of the numerous candles strategically placed on the mahogany dining table and sideboard. He surmised the candlelight hid a multitude of sins, yet even in the dim light Morgan could see the faded wallpaper was sporadically brighter in spots where a painting or wall adornment had obviously been removed.
    The starkness of the room seemed to emphasize the grandeur of the table setting of cream-colored porcelain dishes, delicate gold-and-silver filigree flatware, and fine diamond-cut crystal goblets. The duke grinned as he pictured the very proper Perkins raiding the drawing room in order to produce the lovely tableware. He doubted Alyssa often dined this way.
    Perkins majestically served dinner, hesitantly assisted by a young man. The meal was simple, yet surprisingly good. It included a tangy mulligatawny soup, followed by glazed duck, buttery new potatoes, fresh greens, and pear torte for dessert. Morgan ate heartily while noticing Alyssa pushing her food around on the plate.
    The dinner conversation was limited to safe, mundane topics such as the excellently prepared food and the weather. As the table was being cleared of the final course, Perkins placed several bottles of spirits on the table within easy reach. “Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”
    “No, Perkins. Please convey my compliments to the cook,” the duke replied, dismissing the butler. He saw Perkins hesitate momentarily, but at a nod from Alyssa he left the room.
    “Sherry, Miss Carrington?” the duke asked politely, filling her glass when she agreed. It felt strange sharing a drink after dinner with a lady. Custom always dictated the women withdraw after the meal, leaving the men alone with their brandy and cigars. A small smile tugged his lips. Nothing about Alyssa Carrington or Westgate Manor remotely resembled the rigid order of society to which Morgan was accustomed.
    “I’m glad you enjoyed the meal, Your Grace,” Alyssa said. “Mrs. Stratton was rather nervous about dinner, since she had little time to prepare. You will find she is excellent at her job, as are all those who work here.”
    A dark eyebrow lifted over a silver-gray eye. Morgan heard the anxiety in her voice and was instantly on his guard. Thus far Alyssa had impressively retained control of her emotions, but Morgan was convinced she would eventually loose her iron grip.
    “Can you tell me, Miss Carrington, why your father is not here?” Morgan asked, deliberately shifting the subject.
    Alyssa eyed him cautiously. “Lord Carrington is very seldom at the estate. He has never liked the country, and much prefers the many diversions of London.”
    “You were not informed of my impending visit?”
    “Hardly,” Alyssa replied with a taut smile. “I imagine there wasn’t sufficient time.”
    “Nonsense.” The duke shook his head. “It has been nearly a week since Lord Carrington signed the deed over to me.”
    “That long,” she remarked dryly. “You certainly exhibited great restraint by allowing so much time to pass, Your Grace.”
    Morgan slanted her a cool glance but held his tongue. Few people, especially women, possessed the audacity to display their irritation with him. The majority of them were too impressed by his title and wealth. Clearly Alyssa Carrington was made of sterner stuff.
    “Do you also prefer the diversions of London, Miss Carrington?”
    Alyssa turned sharply toward the duke, fearing he was mocking her, but his handsome face appeared sincere.
    Her chin jutted out defiantly. “I have never been to London.”
    His gray eyes narrowed in surprise.