Free Three Weeks With Lady X by Eloisa James Page A

that?”
    “From an invisible throne.”
    He was still furious, but he clearly had little trouble controlling his temper. “If that is the case, and Laetitia’s mother disallows a betrothal, I shall look elsewhere for a wife. To resort to a proverb, there are many fish in the sea.”
    “You haven’t time to look for another wife,” India said just as bluntly. “You must marry Laetitia before people realize your ward has a distinct likeness to you. Once gossip spreads about Rose, you will be unmarriageable, in my opinion. I would suggest a special license.”
    Thorn was in the grip of a violent wave of disbelief. Had he previously thought Xenobia a she-devil? The names that came to mind now were far more violent. “Are you to accompany me on my honeymoon as well?” he asked. “Will I be allowed to bed my wife without instruction?”
    Damned if that didn’t provoke a mocking little smile from her, reminding him that she considered him to have a shortfall in his private parts. “Naturally, you will have all my best wishes for your success,” she said sweetly.
    As he opened his mouth to say a few choice words that he would likely regret, Rose skipped up and slipped her hand into his. “Shall we see the house now, Mr. Dautry?”
    He would be happy to convince the she-devil just how well he could succeed . But he clenched his teeth instead and again took out the key he’d been given by his solicitors.
    “Has anyone lived here since Lord Jupp died?” Lady Xenobia walked ahead of him, sounding as cool as if the air hadn’t sizzled between them a moment earlier.
    “No,” Thorn said, grimly registering that battling with her had perversely made his cock spring to action—and he’d left his bloody coat in the carriage. Again. “I bought the house with all contents intact. Hopefully, the furniture merely needs dusting.”
    “It’s been a good six months,” Lady Adelaide said cheerfully, trotting over to join them.
    The oaken door was large and heavy, with stubborn hinges. Thorn was forced to throw his shoulder against it until it swung open with a creaking noise and a rush of dusty old air. They all stepped forward as light flooded the entry hall.
    A moment later Thorn snatched up his ward and headed straight back out of the house, his hand clapped over her eyes.

Chapter Eight
    T he Earl of Jupp had adorned his entry hall with statues.
    Of naked people.
    Copulating.
    India had never seen a copulation before (if that was the correct use of that noun—was it a noun?), but she knew enough to be certain that these statues depicted variations on the act she’d heard described. Just inside the door, for example, was a group of two women and one man, their naked bodies so entwined it was hard to see whose limb belonged to whom. What’s more, they were standing, instead of lying down, and there was no bed to be seen.
    “Extraordinary,” Adelaide said, fanning herself. “I’m almost sorry that my mother didn’t allow that dance with Jupp. One has to wonder whether he had these done from life.” She moved around the side of a horizontal piece featuring two people carved from a single block of marble.
    “The men do not look English,” India said, feeling somewhat proud of the fact that she’d even noticed their facial features.
    “Probably Greek,” Adelaide said. She peered at a bronze statue. “Do you know, I think there’s a chance that this piece is by Cellini?”
    India hadn’t the faintest idea who Cellini was. Was a “piece” still a statue when there was more than one person involved? Or was that a “composition”?
    She moved to stand beside Adelaide, who was staring at a naked man from the back. His legs were extraordinarily hairy. And he had a tail.
    India wrinkled her nose. “Is that supposed to be a man?”
    “Don’t be prudish, darling,” Adelaide said. “There’s nothing worse than an English lady who doesn’t appreciate art, particularly an exquisite bronze dating from the 1500s.