Free The Duke's Tattoo: A Regency Romance of Love and Revenge, Though Not in That Order by Miranda Davis Page B

Oswald will do what he can to assist you though he has no ready funds, given the needs of our large family and the pressing need to undertake certain improvements on Treadwater. You understand
. (What? Prudence snorted; do the curtains in the morning room no longer please her? After three tries, one would think she could arrive at an acceptable shade of puce.)
I send you our fond regards
(Prudence snorted again)
and hope you will visit your six nephews and nieces, though not before next autumn when work will be complete, etc.
Regards,
Margot, Lady Dabney
(Not simply Margot, Prudence noted, but then Margot never missed an opportunity to use a surname listed in Debrett’s.)
     
    Prudence strode from the Trim Street Apothecary, stewing over her brother’s duplicity. As she walked, a creeping, prickly sensation crawled up her neck as if eyes were upon her. She stopped to look around. No one out of the ordinary came in view as she scanned the street but still she sensed something malevolent nearby. She resumed her march. The tingling sensation of eyes fixed on her made her skin break out in gooseflesh. She glanced around more quickly. This time, she glimpsed a shadow slide from view into an alleyway behind her. She picked up her pace to conceal herself among the throngs of pedestrians on Milsom Street.
    She must stop reading gothic novels of an evening before bed. A guilty conscience made for an unquiet mind. She was apparently still highly suggestible to irrational fears. She walked on, refusing to dwell on the possibility of a lurking menace any longer.
    • • •
    The Duke of Ainsworth watched Miss Haversham leave No. 3 Trim Street. She was much as he remembered That Night. Her face was a delicate oval, with large and lushly fringed eyes. She had soft, smooth cheeks touched with a rosy glow and her lips curved naturally in a smile. From beneath her bonnet, sable brown strands escaped their confines.
    He found himself following her, unable to look away. Twice she stopped abruptly on the pavement to glance behind as if his gaze had touched her. Had he not darted out of sight, she would have certainly seen him, perhaps recognized him. He preferred to stay in shadows for the time being.
    He stalked her as she turned from Trim Street around the corner to bustling Milsom Street. Dressed as drably as a sparrow, she did not mince, float or glide as was the prevailing fashion among ladies on the high street. She marched. Indeed, her purposeful gait might have seemed mannish, if not nicely contradicted by the hypnotic sway of her hips. Though no out-and-out beauty, Thatcher had it right. She was fetching in person. His body stirred in recognition of her allure. A slight woman, he could easily span her waist with his hands, which his hands itched to do. That, or throttle her neck.
    He kept her in sight as she marched down the shopping street looking neither right nor left. The heels of her boots made crisp taps on the pavement. She walked with spine erect and bonneted head held high. Miss Haversham didn’t glance at the colorful silks or fanciful ribbon trims displayed in the windows of drapers. With a nod and a smile, she acknowledged all who greeted her – from sailors and carters to gentry – and they did so with respect and affection.
    How could this unprepossessing, spinsterish female be the culprit of such a flamboyant assault? The duke began to have doubts…but quickly quashed them. Inconspicuous as she was, he recognized his villainess instantly. She was a danger to male society generally and for some unknown reason to him specifically.
    Stalking Miss Haversham proved vastly entertaining, though not his usual mode of amusement. Eventually, he let her walk away. He rumbled and chuckled for the rest of his stroll back to Morford Street. Through the front door, up the stairs and into his chambers where Smeeth looked at him askance, the duke chortled to himself.
    “What’ve you been up to, Your Grace?” Smeeth asked with