The Naked Prince Read Online Free Page A

that. Becky was a year or two younger than she and had grown up on the estate; they used to play together when they were children. “Yes, yes, I mean, what are you doing in this particular room?”
    â€œMrs. Stutts sent me up. She said ye needed help.”
    â€œOh.” Mrs. Stutts, a gray-haired, somewhat dour woman, was the Greyhams’ housekeeper. “That was very kind of her, but what would I need help with?”
    â€œWith yer clothes and hair.” Becky was clearly struggling not to roll her eyes.
    Jo stared at her for a moment, flabbergasted, and then laughed. “You know I make do for myself at home.”
    Becky gave her a long look. “Begging yer pardon, Miss Jo, but ye do need help. All the other guests are from Lunnon. Ye don’t want to look a country mouse.”
    â€œWhat do I care if all those London ninnies look down their noses at me?” Jo climbed off the bed and shook out her skirts.
    â€œOh, ye’ll care plenty. I’ve seen them do it afore. The poor girls those cats turn their claws on end up crying their eyes out.”
    â€œWell, I’m made of sterner stuff.” She was not some delicate, young debutante, and she didn’t care about something as superficial as personal appearance. It was a person’s intelligence that mattered.
    A certain gentleman’s image—a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with dark hair and blue eyes—popped into her thoughts.
    All right, it didn’t hurt if an intelligent man was also attractive, but it wasn’t important. She’d never have given Lord Kenderly a second thought if he had the mental acuity of stewed cabbage.
    Well, perhaps she would have given him a second look. A woman would have to be blind not to—the man was as handsome as sin.
    He kissed like sin, too, not that she had any experience in the matter. Still he’d definitely made her feel like sinning. Her breasts and belly . . . lower than her belly, actually . . . had felt very, very . . . odd. She—
    She was as bad as a runaway horse, and if she didn’t rein herself in immediately, she’d come to serious trouble. Yes, the man was handsome; yes, he was intelligent. But he must also be a rake. He was at this disreputable party, wasn’t he? And as far as he knew, she was a complete stranger, yet he’d kissed her in that very intimate fashion. Clearly the actions of a rake.
    She flushed. She hadn’t known who he was when she’d kissed him.
    â€œMrs. Stutts told me to tell ye the guests are meeting in the blue parlor before dinner,” Becky was saying. “I’m to help ye change.” Becky looked around. “Where’s yer trunk? I hope we can find one dress that’s not too wrinkled.”
    Trunk? Her entire wardrobe wouldn’t fill a trunk. “I didn’t bring many clothes.”
    Becky’s eyes had found Jo’s bag. “Ye mean this one small valise is all ye have?”
    They both stared at the bag in the corner where the footman must have deposited it. It had looked enormous at home, but now in this rather large bedroom . . .
    â€œYes. You know I’ve no call for fancy gowns, Becky. I’m a Latin tutor. My students come to me to learn their declensions, not study the latest fashions.”
    Becky grunted. “Maybe they’d pay more attention to their studies if they didn’t have to look at ye in the dowdy dresses ye wear.”
    Dowdy dresses? She should be insulted, but in the opulent surroundings of Greyham Manor, she was afraid Becky might have a point. The Windley hellions certainly weren’t impressed with Cicero or Virgil. “My dresses are perfectly serviceable.”
    Becky limited herself to an expressive snort and started unfastening Jo’s frock. “Ye’ll never get through the house party with so few clothes.”
    Jo sighed and let Becky help her out of her dress. “Unless you are a magician, I shall have to,