Free How the Duke Was Won by Lenora Bell Page A

sip, and deliberately missed her mouth.
    Ruby droplets slid down her chin and between her breasts. She dabbed with her napkin, quickly catching the drops before they stained the expensive gown, the soft pressure making her breasts strain against the thin silk.
    The duke’s hand tightened around his glass until she thought the stem would break.
    He rose in a clatter of tableware and scraping chair legs. “This meal is finished,” he announced, and strode out of the room.
    Servants rushed forward to clear plates, and ladies exchanged shocked glances.
    â€œHis Disgrace has spoken, ladies.” Lord Dalton gave them a crooked smile. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s grown unaccustomed to polite company.” He rose and offered his arm to Lady Selby. “Allow me to escort you to the drawing room.”
    D amn these cutaway tailcoats and skintight pantaloons.
    A man couldn’t have a cockstand without becoming a circus attraction. James had sat at the table, waiting for his situation to subside before he called an end to the interminable meal.
    A woman hadn’t affected him this way in . . . ever. Certainly never a young, inexperienced one.
    He preferred his bedmates older and more experienced. During his travels there had been a very inventive widow in France. An opera singer with magnificent . . . lungs . . . in Florence. A lovely actress in Trinidad. Women who understood the rules of the game and played for their own pleasure. For the heated glances, the chase, the sublime moment of consummation. Maidens were too much trouble. They didn’t understand the rules of the game.
    But something about Lady Dorothea obliterated his control and changed all the rules. The way she wreaked havoc with his sangfroid screamed of peril.
    He should stay away from her. Choose Lady Vivienne or Miss Tombs and be done with this nonsense. Then he could head straight to London and into the arms of some luscious little featherhead of an actress whose only mystery was how she ever managed to memorize her lines.
    Lady Dorothea was too much of an enigma—­throwing him to the floor one moment, playing the brazen coquette the next. He didn’t need a complicated maze that ended in hazardous distraction.
    He should go chop some wood. Drink a bottle of brandy.
    Anything to take his mind off blue-­gray eyes tinged with the threat of stormy seas.
    Dalton poked his head in the study door. “You’re being unforgivably rude, you know. Come back and apologize. Their feathers are all ruffled.”
    James sighed. “I’m too accustomed to living in the forest. I’ve lost the taste for inane chatter. I should choose Miss Tombs and be done with it. At least she’d keep my home spotlessly clean. What was I thinking? I should have had Cumberford choose me a bride. There are far too many females in this house. I can’t think.”
    It had been wrong to invite them here to compete for him. As Lady Dorothea had so helpfully pointed out to the entire table.
    James ripped the cork out of a bottle of cognac with his teeth and took a swallow.
    â€œFour ladies. Three days. How bad can it be?” Dalton mimicked James’s deep voice.
    â€œVery funny.”
    â€œWhy not Lady Vivienne?”
    â€œIf I listen to my head, I choose her. But other parts . . .”
    â€œPrefer Lady Dorothea.”
    â€œIs it that obvious?”
    Dalton lit a cigar with a stick from the fire. “Afraid so.”
    â€œHellfire.” James sighed again. “How did this happen? This is supposed to be rational. Bloodless.”
    â€œGot her hooks into you, does she?”
    â€œThese are innocent debutantes, Dalton, not courtesans.”
    â€œYou’d be surprised. The last lady standing becomes a duchess. I’d wager they’re willing to fight dirty. You’d better keep your door locked at night, or you might have a debutante bent on ruin slipping into your