Free The Dangerous Duke by Arabella Sheraton

was hoarse. “And know when to stop.”
    He pushed his chair back and gathered his winnings.
    “Gentlemen!” He saluted his card companions. He was fractionally unsteady on his feet and his eyes were red from the gritty, smoky atmosphere. “Time to meet my Nemesis.”
    “Nemmy what?” Freddie burbled, looking worse for wear. The very high shirt points he affected now hung limp. His once-impeccable blond curls were standing on end from his having run his hands despairingly through the careful confection his valet assured him was called a la Brute . The Duke, on the other hand, remained as elegant and urbane as ever.
    “You look terrible, Freddie!” Devlin muttered in disgust. “Can’t take you anywhere looking like that!”
    “Who’sh Nemmy?” Freddie persisted. “New gal?”
    Freddie negotiated his way to the door with the careful concentration of a man deep in his cups. He leaned his lanky, six-foot frame against the doorjamb, slapping away the porter’s efforts to help him with his cloak. “Leemee ’lone. Can’t you see I’m sober as a judge!” Freddie persisted in fighting the folds of fabric until at last he managed to drape the cloak around his neck like an oversized scarf.
    The chill night air rushed through the fog of brandy fumes in Devlin’s brain as he swayed on the doorstep of the club. “No. The same one.”
    “Aaaah!” Freddie exclaimed sagely as realization dawned. “I know! Nemmy Shish! That Greek whatsit that…er…oh, yes…doom. Er…Doom?”
    “Quite right,” Devlin replied wryly, his head now clear from the effects of brandy.
    “But whatcher mean?” Freddie slurred, bewildered by Devlin’s strange words. “Lady Penelope’s a ga-ga-goddess! Aferdite…Venus!” He waved his hands in expansive demonstration. “Diamond of the first water. In-com-prubble.” He gave a solemn hiccup. “You’re the envy of every man I know an’ I know lots ’n lots of people!”
    “I don’t know what I mean,” Devlin said abruptly. “See you tomorrow, Freddie.”
    “Er…yes.” Freddie muttered.
    As the Duke strolled along, he glanced upward. A lemon slice moon hung pale in the black velvet sky, surrounded by myriad diamond-pointed stars. The air was still, punctuated only by the occasional distant bark of a dog or the muffled rattle of carriage wheels transporting an equally late reveller homeward. By the time the Duke reached Lady Penelope’s house, the cool air had sobered him. His thoughts, however, were not composed.
    Devlin stood outside the familiar entrance, his hand raised to grasp the doorknocker. He could still turn back, pleading intoxication and the lateness of the hour. Suddenly the door swung silently open. It was done. Even if he had wanted to retreat, he could not. He had to enter. A sleepy-eyed footman held the door open for him and took his hat and cloak. The hall was dimly lit but he knew his way well enough. He walked with slow and silent tread up the stairs.
    * * * *
    Lady Penelope lay on her bed, naked except for a gown of transparent gauze, trimmed at the neck and wrist with swan’s-down. She had been waiting for hours, her stomach churning with agitation and exasperation, but she had vowed nothing would move her to anger. Devlin stood in the doorway, gazing at his mistress. Penelope wrinkled her nose as the smell of tobacco smoke and brandy wafted into the room but she ignored it. Tonight she had to get him back under her spell. She slipped languidly off the bed and glided to him.
    “Oh, Dev,” she murmured in seductive tones. “How I have longed for you.”
    She fluttered her eyelashes as she peeped up at his face. Her lips curved in a welcoming smile. Golden tresses cascaded down her shoulders. As she moved, her gauzy gown fluttered open to reveal the long, sensuous lines of her body. Her full breasts jutted out, flaunting red nipples. Her waist dipped in and her hips flared out in an exquisite hourglass.
    “Devlin?” Her voice was questioning. She held