Not Quite A Duke (Dukes' Club Book 6) Read Online Free Page B

his way silently to the arched doorway and peered in.
    At the far end, near the towering fireplace which was large enough to take a log that would burn for hours on end sat Lady Patience.
    To his surprise, she wasn’t crouched over needlework or a bible. Oh no. She was scribbling.
    Furiously.
    She sat, not with perfect posture, but bent over the small desk, one arm resting on the wooden surface.
    Her pen moved wildly and an intense energy engrossed her entire frame.
    The perfectly austere chignon which she had boasted earlier was now loose, falling down. Tendrils of hair fell about her face, shadowing it.
    Every few moments, she pushed idly at the stray locks, but each touch seemed to only make her hair wilder, more disarrayed as if whatever she was writing possessed her completely.
    She dunked her quill in the ink well, gazed towards the dark window and muttered softly. Then with a huff of breath, she bent again, her pen scratching as she covered the page.
    What the devil was she doing?
    If it was a letter it was not the letter of a self-possessed young woman.
    Was it a diary?
    He knew many young ladies kept diaries, putting down their worries and secret longings onto parchment.
    At face value, Lady Patience didn’t seem like a woman with secret longings. . . But she was a mystery, no question.
    He cleared his throat.
    She didn’t hear him.
    Carefully, he strode into the room, wondering how far he could approach without her noticing.
    He allowed his footsteps to grow heavier. Such tactics still didn’t shake her from her reverie.
    The intensity of her form and the speed of her pen didn’t waver.
    Her brow was furrowed in the most delightful way as she wrote.
    Whatever could she be writing?
    He knew he should make himself known with word, but he hadn’t exactly been secretive in his entrance and so, given her parsimonious assignation of his moldy room, he allowed himself the dubious action of peering over her shoulder and reading a few words of her pen.
    Lord Althorpe shoved her back onto the voluptuous folds of the kingly bed, ripping her bodice with a bold hand. The fabric tore asunder with a vicious sound.
    Melicent’s pale hands fluttered as she struggled to cover the pale swells of her bosom.
    “Sir!” she cried. “Take not my virtue!”
    Charles gaped. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t generally given to gaping but how could he not?
    What the blazes was she writing?
    A novel.
    It had to be a novel.
    He coughed loudly.
    She jumped in her chair, sending jet ink splattering across the parchment.
    Lady Patience grasped her pages, whirled around and spotted him.
    Her hazel eyes were the color of amber in the firelight. Her eyes were glowing golden amber and her honeyed hair was wild now about her pale face.
    He noticed she was not wearing her spectacles.
    Her gown was opened at the throat, exposing the delicate flesh of her collarbones.
    Oh, she was not pretty in her wildness. He knew in an instant that Lady Patience would never be pretty. No matter what she wore or how she dressed her hair. She wasn’t that sort of woman.
    Lady Patience was beautiful.
    Bloody hell, she was striking.
    That was the kind of woman she was.
    Her nose was a trifle too big, her mouth a trifle too wide, her forehead a smidgeon too broad. Point of fact, she was a little too everything and somehow it made her glorious. It elevated her above mortal women.
    Without a touch of face paint or study to her hair or to her clothes. . . She was better than perfection.
    She was a goddess.
    And he found that instead of wishing to needle her, he wished to get down on his knees and worship her.
    For truly, as the light of the fire cast her in a halo and she gazed on him with fiery fury, he found himself absolutely enthralled.
    “Who the devil are you?” he breathed.
    “What the blazes are you doing downstairs?” she demanded.
    He grinned. “Do forgive me, was I to remain in my room?”
    Her smoldering eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
    “Whatever