A Lady Undone Read Online Free

and banished such ridiculous thoughts. “You are.”
    He smiled, a smile clearly meant to assure, but it didn’t quite reach his tawny eyes. “My apologies. You are quite beautiful and young for a widow. My condolences, by the way.”
    The way he gave her his sympathies was so light it was as though he was congratulating her, not offering her his sorrow at her loss. “Did you know the duke?”
    He snorted, then his eyes flared as if he’d realized the enormity of his faux pas. “It would seem I am destined to act the ass this afternoon. I didn’t know your husband . . . ,” his voice trailed off, tentative, “but he did have a certain reputation that I was aware of.”
    She felt her mouth go dry, and for one brief instant she was in her old room upstairs, the duke was brushing her hair, and then suddenly his fist was coming down. A gasp tore from her throat.
    “Are you unwell, Your Grace?” Lord Wyndham asked gently.
    She shook her head and forced a smile. “Indeed. I’m merely parched.”
    And thank God that at that moment John, a footman, entered with a tray of brandy and glasses.
    Wyndham’s brows arched as the young, liveried man placed the tray down on the table between them. “No tea, Your Grace?”
    John stood, waiting to see if he indeed would be sent for tea.
    “Would you prefer it?” she asked.
    Wyndham grinned. “No.”
    “Thank you, John, that will be all,” she said, letting the boy go back to the kitchen and no doubt, the polishing of silver. She employed a good many people in the house, more than she probably needed given how little she chose to entertain, but she was determined to be a good duchess. Even if she was a widow, a good duchess made sure to offer employment to those in need.
    As far as she could see now, that was the only worthwhile thing about the aristocracy. That and the few that offered patronage to the poor, artists, and forward-thinking politicians. She lifted the heavy crystal decanter and poured out two glasses, finding that she was perhaps a trifle more generous with the measurements than she should have been. “The Duke of Fairleigh suggested I serve you this if I wished to keep you in good humor. Though, I must admit, you don’t seem particularly difficult.”
    He sat at ease in his chair, a soft smile playing at his lips as if he was there only to share her company. “I am nothing if not the picture of geniality.”
    “Indeed.” She believed him. He seemed to be a man who smiled at the world and the world smiled back, but perhaps it was because the world looked no further than that broad grin or his verbal dancing.
    It was a bit scandalous, but she’d decided to join him in his brandy. After all, what was the point of being a duchess, and a duchess without a lord and master, if she couldn’t have a brandy? She offered him his glass, and for a brief moment their fingertips brushed.
    She paused at the strange feel of his rough touch, waiting for an unpleasant shiver. But there was none. Instead, she felt a strange sort of . . . well, thrill at the new sensation of his fingers. He worked with his hands. There was no question. But that wasn’t what caused her to pause. To her astonishment, not only did she find his physical contact perfectly acceptable, it had tightened her abdomen beneath her corset, some bizarre part of her wishing the moment to linger on.
    Mary, her stepdaughter, had insisted that one day she would meet a man that wouldn’t cause her to shrink from his contact. Of course, Clare had not believed her. She’d never liked any man’s closeness.
    But now?
    The instant he had a grip on the glass, she pulled her hand back, lest she suddenly grab him and see how much she might touch or be touched . . . and enjoy it. “All this talk of your geniality doesn’t give me much confidence that you will find whoever is making my life difficult in the East End.”
    “Ah.” He sighed dramatically. “To business then.”
    “It is best, don’t you