Free The Ugly Duchess by Eloisa James Page A

shivering, breathy series of comments that made little sense, until she found herself saying, “I cannot believe I didn’t know I felt like this . . . What would have happened if you hadn’t realized in time, James? What if I had managed to entice Geoffrey to the altar?”
    He pulled his mouth away. By now she was clinging to him, trying to fit all the curves of her body to the hard places in his, trying to climb up him like a cat, her breath coming in little sobs.
    But he thrust her away, putting the chair between them for good measure. “James,” she said, her voice threaded with desire.
    “Don’t.” His voice was hoarse too, but there was something strange in his expression, a kind of agonized rage in his eyes.
    “What on earth is the matter?” Theo asked, suddenly aware that there really was something the matter; James wasn’t simply in an odd mood.
    “Nothing,” he said, with patent falsehood. “I must meet the estate manager. I don’t want the man to think that the whole family is cut along my father’s pattern. He sometimes keeps Reede waiting for days after summoning him.”
    “Of course,” Theo replied. “Still, I know you, James. There’s something really wrong, isn’t there? Please tell me. What is it?”
    But he turned and fled, and she spoke to the closed door.

Eight
    A mélie’s horrified cry at discovering the wedding dress serving as a perch for a pair of London sparrows was matched by her despair as Theo tossed dress after dress behind her on the bed.
    At the end of it, Theo had almost nothing to wear, but she had a growing sense of excitement.
    When she finally managed to dress in one of the few gowns left to her name, she wandered down to breakfast. James had not yet returned from his trip to the wharf, and no one else was at home. “Where is His Grace?” she asked Cramble, allowing a footman to spoon scrambled eggs onto her plate.
    “The duke went to the races in Newmarket and won’t be home until tomorrow.”
    “And my mother?”
    “Mrs. Saxby left early this morning for Scotland; I believe she is paying a visit to her sister.”
    “Of course! I entirely forgot,” Theo said. “Yes, I would like two pieces of that ham, thank you. Cramble, would you please send a footman to Madame Le Courbier and inform her that I will pay a visit this afternoon? And since I am alone, I would love to see a newspaper.”
    “Only the Morning Chronicle has been delivered, Lady Islay. I shall bring it to you immediately.”
    Theo almost didn’t catch his answer, lost as she was in the surprising pleasure of being addressed by James’s title. She never thought of James as the Earl of Islay, but of course he was. Then the butler’s comment dawned on her. “No other papers? How very peculiar. Couldn’t you send someone out for them, Cramble?”
    “I am very sorry, my lady,” he said. “I am afraid I am unable to spare anyone from the household at the moment.”
    “Perhaps this afternoon,” Theo said. “Surely Town Topics will be delivered at some point?”
    “I shall ascertain,” Cramble replied discouragingly.
    Theo began to think about the whole vexing question of the estate. She had no problem believing that her new father-in-law had lost a great deal of the estate’s fortunes. He was an irascible, gambling fool, and even if she hadn’t reached that conclusion herself, her mother had said so, forcibly, at least once a day for as long as she could remember.
    Still, she was rather surprised that Ashbrook had agreed to give over the reins to James. He must have been pushed to the wall, which suggested the estate was in truly bad straits.
    Once James and the estate manager returned from their errand, she joined them in the library to find that the meeting had an air of crisis. James had clearly been tugging at his hair, as his short Brutus looked much more disarranged than was fashionable. The estate manager, Mr. Reede, looked both aggrieved and defensive.
    “Gentlemen,” Theo