Free My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) by Julie Johnstone Page B

his gaze down the gentle slope of her neck, to the hollow between her collarbones where her pulse pushed frantically against her skin. His reputation must have preceded him. It had happened before. It would be no hardship to take Lady Amelia to his bed, if he weren’t tired of his reputation and that particular life.
    He stepped back, putting a safe distance between them. “Were you waiting in the shadows for me?”
    She gaped then squared her shoulders and drew herself a good two inches taller. “Certainly not.”
    “Really?” He quirked his eyebrows. “Then what exactly were you doing hiding in the doorframe conveniently dressed in a thin, white cotton night rail far too easy to see through in flickering candlelight?”
    Gasping, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Are you always this arrogant?”
    He nodded, but his usual sense of confidence in judging women felt off with Lady Amelia.
    “If you must know,” she said, each word clipped, “I waited up to make sure Philip was not too heartbroken over Lady Mary.”
    Convenient excuse. “Why you and not your mother?” There, let her come up with a reasonable sounding explanation for that.
    Lady Amelia looked away from him and toward the floor. “Mother has not been herself lately. She retires early quite frequently due to megrims. She went to bed and told me to do the same.” Returning her gaze to his, she set her hands on her hips. “Hence, my night rail, if you were going to ask.”
    He had been, but he’d never admit it. For some inane reason he halfway believed her. “Why didn’t you simply come to the door when we arrived home and talk to your brother instead of lurking in the shadows?”
    She smiled at him, and the gentle beauty of it tightened his chest. “You have no siblings, do you?” she asked.
    “No.” He was not about to explain all the nasty details of his birth and how it left his mother barren and how she blamed him.
    “Philip would never tell me if he had a broken heart, and wrong as it may be, I hid because I simply had to know. I thought he might mention something to you. He is my brother, and I love him dearly. I would do anything in my power to help him.”
    By God, he believed her. He really did. Envy, because the pull in his gut could be nothing else, snaked through him. It was absurd to be envious of Harthorne having a sister who cared deeply for him, but nevertheless he was jealous and regretful at having misjudged her. The two emotions were foreign to him when it came to the fairer sex. He ran his hand through his hair, vastly uncomfortable and aware that Lady Amelia deserved an apology. “I’m terribly sorry.”
    She shrugged, making her night rail stretch tight across her delicate shoulders. “It’s all right. I suspect you have encountered a great many women who lurk in shadows waiting for you. My friend Lady Constance, who you probably don’t remember from last Season―”
    “I remember her,” he interrupted, fascinated with the way Lady Amelia seemed utterly unaware that she should have been greatly offended by his accusing her of wanting him.
    “Do you?”
    The skepticism in her voice was hard to miss.
    “I do.” He leaned against the wall, amazed with the moment. It was not every day he carried on an innocent conversation in a dark library with a woman in nothing but her night rail who only wanted to talk. Hell, it was never the case. He cleared his throat. “She had red hair, brown eyes, and is about”―he raised his hand to his shoulder―“this tall.”
    “That describes at least a dozen women I know in London,” Lady Amelia murmured, though her smile had grown wider.
    “Perhaps,” he agreed, enjoying their easy banter. “But I would never forget a woman I’ve danced with.”
    “I’m not sure I believe you, given I’m certain you’ve danced with an awfully lot of women.” Lady Amelia cocked her head to the side, and the movement caused a few tendrils of blond hair to fall out of