Free Dukes Prefer Blondes by Loretta Chase Page A

linen in Mr. Radford’s hearing.”
    His unwanted self, meanwhile, who’d been meditating upon her virginal bedroom, promptly set about imagining her linen, every layer of it, starting with the uppermost—­corset and petticoat—­and working his way down to chemise and skin.
    â€œCurdle my blood all you like, Mr. Radford, since it amuses you so much,” Lady Clara said. “But eventually I should like to know what you discovered.”
    â€œFirstly, it was clever of me to bring you along,” he said.
    â€œClever!” she said. “Of you ! I was the one who had to pass the examination.”
    â€œIf you hadn’t passed, it wouldn’t have been clever of me but unintelligent and counterproductive,” he said. “But Jane was jealous of you—­”
    â€œ Jealous? ”
    â€œStreetwalkers are competitive about men and undiscriminating,” he said. “She wanted to show me she knew what you didn’t. The boy Jos showed off because he’s a boy and you’re an attractive female, even with whatever that muck is on your face.”
    The composition dulled her complexion and made it seem rough. It couldn’t conceal her beauty, though, even from the most unobservant and dull-­witted boy, which Jos was not.
    â€œA blend Davis made for me,” she said. “Jos was—­what? Nine years old?”
    â€œFourteen,” Radford said. “Their bodies might be stunted, but they age more quickly in the rookeries than in Mayfair. He wanted a closer look at you. And maybe he was curious what clean smelled like. He knew he had to pay for the privilege, and so he gave me what he had. In short, your ladyship was wonderfully useful in untying tongues. At last we know who has Toby.”
    Freame, as he’d suspected. Of all the gangs in London, the boy had to get himself led into that one. Thanks to Chiver, which made the motive plain.
    â€œI don’t,” she said.
    â€œMaybe you’ll solve the puzzle on your own, if you care to waste valuable mental energy upon that rather than escaping matrimony,” he said. “But I’m not in a humor to indulge your idle curiosity further.”
    Lady Clara had taken a great risk going with him this day. He should never have let it happen. He could have learned what he needed without her, though it wouldn’t have been nearly so easy.
    Very well. He’d made a mistake. He’d correct it.
    â€œIdle! You said a moment ago—­”
    â€œYour maid doesn’t approve, and all the evidence supports her,” he said.
    â€œDavis isn’t my mother ,” she said.
    â€œDon’t make me tell your mother,” he said. “I don’t like nosing on my friends any more than Jane does, but like her, I’ll do it if provoked sufficiently. You’ll soon reach Oxford Street. I’d better disembark here. I need to talk to some fellows at the Bow Street Police Office.” He signaled the coach to stop.
    â€œMr. Radford, you are the rudest man—­”
    â€œSo I’m told,” he said. “Obnoxious, too.” The coachman was taking his time about climbing down to open the door. Radford wrestled with the window, muscled it down, and turned the handle.
    He had the door open when Lady Clara grabbed his arm.
    â€œMr. Radford—­”
    â€œMy lady!” the shocked maid cried.
    He was shocked, too, at the intimacy, and that wasn’t all.
    Lady Clara did not take her hand away.
    A small, slender, lady’s hand, gloved and weighing next to nothing. He should have scarcely felt her touch, but it shot through him as sharply as a dagger thrust, and his blood seemed to rush to meet it.
    â€œYou may not dismiss me so easily,” Lady Clara said.
    â€œMay I not?” He covered her hand with his, and he felt her tense. Davis turned bright red and grabbed her umbrella, meaning to brain him, no doubt. He didn’t care.