Free Dreamspinner by Olivia Drake

wafted through the air. Sentiment had no place in his plan. He should be grateful for her naivete; it made her so damned easy to manipulate. Yet his throat constricted with an absurd tenderness, a tenderness he hadn’t felt toward any woman since Emily.
    Emily. The bitter blow of memory struck the softness from him. His mind burned with the image of her gentle face. She’d been too fragile to fight the wickedness of a world that wouldn’t accept the circumstances of her birth, too kind to comprehend the evil of men who would treat her as something less than perfect.
    He had no such compunction. Like a blast of winter wind, resolve froze his soul. Lowering his hands to the desk, he gripped the edge so hard, his blunt tipped nails scored the green leather surface.
    His grip slowly eased. Methodically he brushed the tansy remains into the rubbish bin. No matter what the cost, he must vindicate his wife’s death.
    Emmett Carleton must pay for driving her to suicide.
     

     
    “Are you certain this is wise?” Maud asked.
    Clutching the door strap as the brougham rounded a corner, Juliet smiled at her friend. “After all your madcap escapades, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be lecturing me.”
    “But to go to the duke’s town house, unchaperoned... ”
    Juliet knew the risk. To meet a man in a public place bent the rules of convention; to visit him alone broke every dictate drummed into her by her mother. She could be ruined; Papa had warned her that Kent meant to do just that...
    “I trust him,” she said firmly. “Someday, when you meet the right man, you’ll understand how I feel.”
    An unholy glint entered Maud’s eyes. “Do you suppose he’ll try to do that to you?”
    “That?”
    “You know. Lure you into his bedroom so he can do all sorts of unspeakable things to your person.”
    Heat washed through Juliet. At boarding school, she and Maud had spent hours speculating about the secret act between men and women. “Don’t be absurd. Kent has acted the perfect gentleman.”
    Then why had he asked her to his home? He’d mentioned a surprise, but what could it be? She hugged the breathless hope that his feelings for her had deepened, that today he meant to declare himself.
    Over the past fortnight, they’d shared glorious stolen hours: an afternoon wandering the stalls at a horticultural exhibit, a morning studying the flora of Hampstead Heath, even an entire day roaming the greenhouses in the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. Her mother had arched an eyebrow at the sudden obsession with shopping that Juliet and Maud had developed, but thankfully Dorothea was preoccupied with planning a schedule of dinner parties and soirees designed to lure Lord Breeton into the family fold.
    Through the broad front window of the carriage, Juliet saw the opulent shops of Regent Street. Hands trembling with excitement, she pulled out the vanity drawer hidden in the maroon satin panel before her, then checked her appearance in the small mirror and adjusted the pearl-tipped pin securing her straw hat. Was the bodice of the apricot gown cut too low for afternoon wear?
    She bit her lip. “Oh, dear. Perhaps I ought to have worn the lavender silk after all.”
    Maud drew out her gold-rimmed spectacles and peered closely. “Egad. You’d have looked as if you were in half mourning.”
    “Then maybe the new Du Barry rose gown?”
    “Stop fretting. His Grace, the most noble Duke of Radcliffe, will be utterly entranced by your immortal beauty.”
    They looked at each other and giggled, and the moment of anxiety lifted. Exhilaration kindled inside Juliet, an exhilaration that stoked the blaze of longing in her heart. Ever since she’d met Kent, the world glowed vibrant and rich... a richness of the senses. Color seemed more vivid, tastes sharper, scents keener. The clatter of carriage wheels sang like a symphony; ever this cool gray day felt brisk and brilliant.
    “There’s the dressmaker’s,” Maud said, squinting