Beauty and the Duke Read Online Free Page A

from dig to dig, from the Rhineland to South America, only to return to England and unearth our largest discovery ever, near Lyme Regis. It was either that or learn to play the pianoforte. I was never any good at playing the lady.” Normally she did not allow herself to blather and her impulsive words made her blush. She cleared her throat. “But that does not mean I do not have standards. I have the school’s reputation to think of, after all.”
    “Obviously no student’s doting papa has seen you in that gown.”
    She peered down at herself, pleased that he had not only noted what she wore, but also considered it provocative. She rarely had the opportunity to wear such a dress…and tonight was supposed to have been a special occasion. “What is wrong with this gown?”
    “Nothing,” he said. “You put the highest-paid demirep to shame.” Leaning nearer, he said, “And I mean that as a compliment.”
    Disdain for his humor flattened her smile. “Clearly you have developed the manners of a poet. A very poor one.”
    “I never had manners of a poet. I thought that waswhy I interested you.”
    The triumphant end of a lively reel rattled the artifacts in the preview case. Silence followed, startling in its intensity, as if it signified more than the end to this evening’s festivities. Yet, neither of them hurried to be the first to say good-bye.
    Then he stood aside for her to pass. But as she slipped past him, his hand snagged her arm, turning her. His tension was so great he might have been made of pressed iron. Aware of a sudden burn behind her eyes and his breath against her temple, she lifted her chin.
    “I am glad to see you doing well, Christine.”
    “You as well, your grace.”
    His expression changed subtly, unmistakably.
    Then she was walking past him into the fog that had settled over London like pea soup tonight. As she hailed a hansom and then leaned back against the aged, cracked leather seat in the cab, she drew in her breath, recognizing tonight had not gone well for her self-confidence, which was normally unflappable under the most dire of circumstances. Everything had seemed to escalate to more than it should have. Erik’s presence had only added to the burden of Joseph’s rejection for it reminded her of a far more painful time in her life when she had watched the man she’d once loved wed another.
    She had met the infamous duke of Sedgwick her first Season in London at a ball given for her cousin Charlotte at the Somerset manse. That year had been the only time in her life when she’d contemplated trading her scientific passions for something…something elusively magic. She’d been young enough to feel her heart awaken to the first stirrings of love—or what she had believed was love. At eighteen, her world could not havebeen brighter or filled with more promise.
    Theirs had been a secret courtship, precipitated by her, ended by him, a fleeting interlude in her life that had managed to imprint itself on her memory with an impunity that had shaped her relationship with men in her life since.
    Christine had always wondered in the deepest recesses of her mind if Erik had chosen her cousin Charlotte because he’d thought her more beautiful, less willful. Or because Charlotte’s dowry would add massive wealth to his holdings. The Sommers family had certainly misjudged the profitability of the land that came with Charlotte, just as they misjudged the young duke of Sedgwick. To this day, Charlotte’s father, Christine’s uncle, still contested the agreement that gave Sedgwick the York land in exchange for a mere two-week marriage to his daughter. Her uncle still harbored the hope that at the very least, Sedgwick would go to the gallows for the murder of his second wife, of less than a year, after she vanished. That had been seven years ago. Christine knew he’d had a daughter by his second wife.
    Christine did not know if all the gossip about Erik was true. Through the years, she’d