Free The Duke's Bedeviled Bride (Royal Pains Book 2) by Nina Mason Page A

and brocades and there was something familiar about the man’s posture and gait. The lady, unless Maggie was mistaken, was a stranger to her.
    Maggie pushed up on her elbows with rising indignation, gaze glued to the approaching pair. She could not yet make out their features, but the gentleman wore a wide-brimmed hat trimmed in gimp and plumage, a fashionable periwig falling well past his shoulders, and a coat covering all but his stockings and shoes. Of his companion’s costume, she glimpsed a skirt of embroidered pink satin peeking out from beneath a fur-lined blue velvet cloak. The lady’s hair was the same shade of gold as Maggie’s. ’Twas quite common for neighbors to drop in unannounced, but to venture into their private garden unescorted seemed beyond the bounds of propriety.
    The rustle of her petticoats called her gaze back to Robert. He was on his knees, hastily covering her lower half. He appeared to be ruffled, but far from distraught. Her gaze shot back to the oncoming couple. “Who are they? Do you know?”
    “It surprises me greatly you do not.” Chuckling, he climbed to his feet. Offering his hand to help her up, he added, “’Tis none other than my brother, Hugh, of course. And the lady, I can only presume, is our new sister-in-law.”
    Maggie felt as though she’d been struck right below the breastbone and, all at once, found breathing difficult. As she struggled for air, all of the feelings she’d thought sure were no more bubbled to the surface. Accepting Robert’s hand, she let him pull her to her feet, forcing a smile to cover the inner explosion. She did not understand. ’Twas not possible she still had feelings for Hugh when she loved Robert with all of her heart.
    No, the feeling must be something else. Not romantic love, but sisterly affection. Yes, she told herself, she cared for Hugh as shamelessly as a sister cared for a brother.  
    Robert, keeping hold of her hand, tugged her toward the edge of the copse. “Make haste. ’Twill not do for them to judge us indecent.”
    “Why should we care what they think?” Maggie protested. “We are man and wife. Newlyweds, no less. They should be happy to see we cannot keep our hands off one another.”
    “Aye, well. Be that as it may, my brother is a bit of a prude—a fact you somehow failed to notice, along with the rest of his flaws.”
    She wanted to ask which flaws he meant, but there was no time. They came through the trees face to face with their visitors. Hugh had grown more handsome, time having filled out his features and strengthened his jaw. He was also more stylish. He’d always followed fashion, but the time spent at the Sun King’s court had made him more aggressive in the pursuit of smart attire.
    She made a little curtsey and offered her former suitor her hand. A shiver went through her as he pressed his lips to the back of it.
    “Well, well, well,” said Robert beside her. “’Tis the Prodigal Son come home again. We must kill the fatted calf, invite all the neighbors, and make a real feast of the occasion.” Turning to his wife, he added, “What do you say to that, Rosebud?”
    Hugh spoke before she could. “Would that you had a fatted calf to slaughter, brother. But, if things are as ever, you have only the half-starved variety whose meat is unfit for consumption.”
    ’Twas too true, but only men would discuss cattle at such a moment. “Will you not make the introductions?” She met Hugh’s gray-green gaze.
    His eyes were so like Robert’s and, at the same time, so different. Her husband, for all his wildness, had a gentleness to his gaze his younger brother’s lacked. Why had she never noticed the difference before?
    “Of course,” Hugh returned with a nod of the head. “Please forgive my appalling lack of manners. I was so dumbstruck by our reunion, I forgot myself.” Turning to his bride, he said, “This is Juliette, the new Marchioness of Castlerock. We were married a week ago in the presence