Free Captivated by a Lady's Charm (Lords of Honor Book 2) by Christi Caldwell Page B

bayonet. A whimper climbed up his throat and he dug his fingers into his temples. In the scheme of marriage, which was a certain necessity, the last person he wanted to bind himself to was a hopeful miss who saw good in him. Not when his failings were so very great. With his return from war, a young man of twenty, the ton had been enamored of those returning Waterloo soldiers. In his silence, he’d only perpetuated the myth that he had been a hero that day in Belgium.
    But he knew the truth. Just as did the men, fellow soldiers and brothers-in-arms, who’d stood beside him, knew the truth about just what kind of hero he’d been—a weak, pathetic coward. The manner of soldier who’d needed the protection of his friends in order to survive….and worse, a man who’d unwittingly shared their battlefield secrets with a woman who’d professed her love. That folly had cost his friend, the now Duke of Blackthorne, nearly everything and many other men, absolutely everything.
    Self-loathing unfurled within him, tightening his chest so that it was hard to draw breath. With a broken sob, Christian buried his head into his hands.
    What woman would ever want such a gentleman as that for her husband?

Chapter 6
    Lesson Six
    Occasionally, a gentleman will cause you to woolgather…
    I t is the blue of your eyes.
    Walking beside her youngest sister with their maid trailing some distance back, a silly smile played on Prudence’s lips. “It is your eyes,” she silently mouthed. She recalled the marquess’ piercing stare upon her person as he’d then turned and left Lady Drake’s ballroom floor. He—
    A loud bark cut into her wondrous musings. She frowned down at the anything but quiet dog. Her sister shifted the leash of her mongrel dog, gifted her two years ago by Lady Drake.
    “Do hush,” Poppy chided.
    To demonstrate how well-behaved he in fact was, Sir Faithful II, perhaps the worst-named dog within the kingdom behind Sir Faithful the first, who’d sired him, tugged the hem of Prudence’s cloak within his teeth and shook. Her frown deepened. The dog didn’t seem to have a spot of intelligence, for he released her garment and darted in front of Poppy’s legs.
    Her sister quietly cursed and stumbled over the black, coarse-haired animal. The sketchpad under her arm shifted and fell from her arms. Poppy paused a moment to retrieve her own small book and then quickly caught up to Prudence.
    As the gravel crunched beneath the heels of her serviceable boots, Prudence redirected her gaze to the surface of the river.
    “You keep stumbling into me,” Poppy chided at her side, giving Prudence a nudge.
    Except, following Lord and Lady Drake’s ball last evening, she could not feel any pain.
    “Ouch, you did it again,” Poppy lamented. She stuck a sharp elbow into Prudence’s side.
    Prudence grunted. Apparently, she’d been wrong. She’d quite felt that. “Do stop nudging me.”
    “But you are walking in an odd back and forth angle as though you aren’t paying attention to where we are going. And we really should not be traveling upon the riding path.”
    She furrowed her brow. “Are we on the riding path?” She’d not realized it. Prudence glanced about at the empty landscape of Hyde Park. Well, it appeared they had gone and wandered off the well-traveled, but now blessedly empty, walking paths. “No, we really should not be,” she conceded. She’d been so very lost in the thoughts of him; a man she knew barely at all, yet who still possessed her every thought.
    But he’d spoken of her eyes and danced with her when no one else had. She wrinkled her nose. Well, that was anyone that was not her brother, Sin, or his closest friend, the Marquess of Drake. Why, the only familial male obligation left was Patrina’s husband. Though she was sure Weston would get around to it when he and Patrina at last arrived for the Season. If they ever arrived for the Season.
    She and Poppy walked at a brisk clip, with little puffs of