A Duke For All Seasons Read Online Free PDF

assassin’s list of targets. Members of Parliament, a Major-General, the Prince Regent’s cousin . . . what was Bella doing with it?”
         “What indeed?” Neville said with a quirk of his brow.
         “No, she couldn’t possibly—” He caught himself. When she handed the libretto to him, what was it she’d said? He’d find what he sought between its pages. Sebastian’s gut roiled. She knew the envelope was there and had mistaken him for the person to whom she was supposed to give it. “The seal was unbroken, you say?” 
         “Yes.”
         His senses were still awash in the woman’s scent. She was sensual and slick and had manipulated him as neatly as if he were a green lad. Anger crept up his neck like a rash. But even now he couldn’t conceive of her being involved in a series of political murders. “She may have been unaware what the envelope contained.” 
         “But she was in possession of it,” Neville stubbornly reminded him.
         And she was trying to get it back, Sebastian realized with a jolt. Perhaps her kisses, her looks of promise, nothing of this beguiling, bedamned evening was real. Arabella St. George was merely trying to recover an incriminating document that had gone badly astray. 
         “Shall we wake the magistrate?” Neville asked.
         Sebastian crumpled the foolscap in his fist. “No need. I’ll deal with this myself.”
         If she was guilty, he’d be far less merciful than the magistrate.
    *     *     *     *     *
     
         The next day, Sebastian was an hour late to collect her in his fine coach. Arabella was mildly offended, but decided to ignore the slight since he didn’t even trouble to apologize. There was no point in antagonizing him since she needed to recover that envelope and quarreling with Sebastian over a minor faux pas seemed an inefficient way of doing it.
         She expected him to attempt to seduce her during the carriage ride. There were plenty of adventurous possibilities in a small, but well-padded space. 
         But he was distant as they bounced along in his equipage. When she tried to engage him in conversation, he rapped on the coach’s ceiling and signaled a halt. 
         “I’m inclined to ride,” he said simply, as if no more explanation were required and climbed out of the carriage to mount the bay gelding one of his outriders had been leading. 
         “Beastly manners. No wonder he secures his mistresses by contract,” she murmured. “Why else would they tolerate him for three months?”
         She regretted sending notice to the opera company that she’d be unavailable for the final two performances of the season. If not for the need to recover Fernand’s blasted envelope, she’d order the driver to return her to London.
         He’s discovered the envelope. That’s why he’s so changed toward me.
         She shoved that thought aside. If that were the case, she’d be under arrest instead of rattling along toward a sennight at the duke’s country seat.
         Whatever was bothering Sebastian seemed to have been resolved by his ride. When they pulled to a stop before the gracious manor house at the end of a tree-lined drive, he handed her down from the coach with every courtesy. All the servants queued up to greet their returning master and he introduced Arabella to the butler and housekeeper as a celebrated operatic diva and his special guest.
         “Once you refresh yourself, Miss St. George, I'll show you over the rest of place if you'd care to go riding.”
         “That would be lovely.” After the stifling trip in the enclosed coach, Arabella’s muscles ached for a chance at some exercise.  
         Sebastian fished out a stack of books from the boot. With a sudden prickle of awareness, Bella noticed the Don Giovanni libretto on top. “I only have to deliver these to the library and then I’ll see to your mount. Mrs.