Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square Read Online Free

birds and animals, field flowers, trees in leaf, and the landscapes for which Grace had shown a partiality. The sketch of the man was at the back of the book. So long as she was careful, she could show only the innocent drawings in the front.
    All too soon one of the footmen walked in, her blue clothbound sketchbook in hand. She leapt to her feet and hurried across to take it before anyone else could. “Thank you, Joseph.”
    Quickly, she clutched the sketchbook against her chest, collecting herself. Then she turned to face the waiting company.
    “Here we are,” she said brightly as she crossed to resume her seat. “Since you all wish to see, why don’t I just hold up the drawings rather than passing the book around?”
    Slowly she cracked open the binding, careful to go nowhere near the back pages. She thumbed through, looking quickly for something she hadn’t already shown her family.
    “Ah, here we are,” she said, relieved to have found a new sketch. “I drew this of the hills toward the village earlier today.”
    Actually, she’d drawn it the previous week.
    She held up the book, fingers tight on the pages.
    Murmurs of appreciation went around the room.
    “Lovely,” Lady Waxhaven said.
    “Astounding,” Lord Eversley pronounced. “As I said before, you are a marvel, Lady Esme. Show us another.”
    “All right.”
    Bending over the book again, she found another new sketch, this one of her dog Burr lying under a tree.
    She held it up, eliciting more positive remarks and smiles. From everyone except Lettice Waxhaven, that is. Lettice’s innocent mask had slipped again, her eyes filled with a bitterness that made her look as if she wished she’d never started this.
    Well, that makes two of us,
Esme thought.
    Esme showed them one last sketch of farmers working in the fields, then closed the book, holding it on her lap. “There, you have all had your art exhibition for the evening. Now, enough about me. Please go back to whatever you were doing before, talking and drinking and enjoying the evening.”
    “Thank you, dear, for sharing your beautiful drawings with everyone. But Esme is right,” Claire said with a broad smile. “Let us make merry. Perhaps a game of cards or some dancing? I should dearly love to hear a tune.”
    “That sounds wonderful, Duchess,” Lettice declared, openly enthusiastic. Her gaze went to Eversley. “Do you enjoy music, my lord?”
    “Indeed,” he said. “Mayhap you could play for us, Miss Waxhaven? You’re quite accomplished on the pianoforte as I recall.” Then he turned to Esme. “Lady Esme, what about you? Would you care to take to the floor?”
    Lettice Waxhaven’s face drained of color.
    Esme actually did feel sorry for her—and rather cross with Lord Eversley for being so obtuse. She stood, intending to refuse him. But before she could, Lettice stalked forward and deliberately bumped into hershoulder, though Lettice did a good job making it look unintentional.
    The sketchbook flew out of Esme’s grasp, pages fluttering wide before the book spun and skidded to a halt on the floor.
    She bent quickly to retrieve it, but Lettice Waxhaven’s loud gasp let her know it was already too late. Everyone else was turning and looking too.
    Breath froze in her chest, her thoughts tumbling wildly one over the other as she tried to think exactly how to explain the page with the gloriously bare, unforgettably gorgeous male specimen lying open for all to see.
    “What in the nine circles of Hell is that?” Lawrence said, his voice so loud she jumped.
    “I believe we can all see
what
it is,” Leo answered, his face wearing the identical look of shock and dawning outrage as his twin’s. “The only thing I want to know is how we’re going to kill him.”
    “Kill who?” Esme squeaked, suddenly finding her voice.
    Leo and Lawrence’s gazes swung her way, while the rest of their family and friends looked on.
    “Northcote.”
Leo said the name like it was a curse.
    “Our