Almost Perfect Read Online Free Page B

nose. As different as Devanney and Lucien were in look, they were similar in build, both tall, broad shouldered men.
    Lucien smiled. “Hastings insisted that I couldn’t make my return to society out of mourning in any state of dress less than flawless,” he replied.
    “Now that’s a valet worth his salt,” Devanney laughed. “So tell me. How hard did Hastings have to scrub to remove the stench of fish?” Lucien had spent this summer and the last in isolation at his nearby fishing lodge.
    “I’ve no skin left,” Lucien retorted with a forced smile, wishing Devanney would leave off but knowing he wouldn’t. His cousin was determined to distract Lucien from the revenge he so craved. Devanney was wrong. Bucksden deserved to die for no other reason than Lucien’s certainty that Bucksden had seduced Dorothea because Lucien had intimated the earl cheated at cards.
    “What do you do with what you catch, anyway? Don’t tell me you eat it.” Devanney’s pretense of languid dismay rivaled anything Keane had ever produced for the stage.
    Amused despite himself, the corner of Lucien’s mouth lifted. “Why should I eat it when your chef pays handsomely for what I catch? Enough to keep my lodge in beef,” he finished, taunting.
    Devanney huffed in disgust. “Does he? As if you needed another shilling to your name. You’ve more blunt than I do,” he grumbled. “Ah well, I shall have to overcome my pique and pretend that I’m glad to see you out and about. A warning, cuz. If you persist in your present manner, people will think you’ve rusticated these last two years.”
    “How so?” Lucien asked, a little startled.
    At that moment the dance ended and the jiggers came to a halt. Rather than begin a new piece the white-wigged, black-clothed musicians set aside their instruments to take a brief respite. The dancers wove their way back to their parties, more than a few pausing to bow to Devanney and Lucien, and receiving their show of respect in return. A moment later and the sound of conversation rose to a new thundering thrum in the big room.
    Devanney again turned his attention onto Lucien. His expression shifted until he looked every bit as supercilious as any society maven. “You’re staring at my female guests as if you mean to chew them up and spit out their bones,” he chided, shaking a finger.
    “I was hardly staring,” Lucien retorted, trying his best not to let his cousin charm him.
    Devanney’s pomposity dissolved, leaving Lucien looking upon the most worrisome of Devanney’s many faces, one of wicked enjoyment. The two of them shared a history of pranks between them and this event offered Devanney the perfect occasion for just such a trick.
    “You were indeed staring, just not at all in the right direction,” his cousin replied, then took Lucien by the shoulders and turned him to look toward the back of the room. “Try that way.”
    The crowd there was thinner. Lucien spied Lady Forster, a viscount’s daughter who for love’s sake had married down. He’d first met the old woman at the beginning of his mourning period two years ago when he purchased his fishing lodge, his private Eden, near her home. The old woman wore lavender, the color a mark of respect for her beloved, departed squire. A diamond clip held a single black ostrich feather in her steel-colored curls.
    “What’s notable about Lady Forster?” Lucien asked, adding to himself
other than to remember to stay out of her way
. Although Philana Forster was a good soul she found far too much joy in meddling in the affairs of others for his peace of mind.
    “Not her, the woman beside her. Look beyond Egremont’s shoulder,” Devanney said, his words directing Lucien to the back of the blue-coated colonel who stood between Lady Forster and his host.
    Lucien had to shift to see the girl Devanney meant then he wondered how he could have missed her. She was stunning, glowing as brightly as the room’s candles with her golden hair and a