A Man Above Reproach Read Online Free PDF

woman declared. “I cannot be so ill-informed when other ladies start talking for one moment longer.”
    “Of course we can help you with that, Lady…?” Sally began.
    “The Duchess of Lennox.”
    “Oh! I am so sorry, Your Grace!” Sally fell into a sloppy curtsey. “Please accept my sincere apologies.”
    Lennox
, Josephine noted.
The Duke of Lennox
. And a wife. A decorated, aged wife who was at least fifteen years older than him. She must have been frothing with money, rich enough for the duke to overlook her age. Or they were in love, which sent a buzz of horror straight through Josephine. She tried to shake her head to clear it, but found that nothing on her would move. She was frozen in her spot, though it would have taken her less than thirty seconds to show the duchess where any number of editions of Austen were and only moments more to tell her the pros and cons of each. However, there was no way she was turning around for fear of catching his eye. There was no way she could see his dignified, classical face without a mask. It was not an image she wanted in her memory. She certainly did not want to see him standing stalwartly next to his wife. Sally’s eyes slid toward her as recognition dawned on her as well.
    Josephine found that her legs awakened at the thought of having to face him in the daylight. She tried to slink away.
    “I hear this shop has a fine rare books room,” Elias’s deep voice intoned. Josephine heard it in her sternum, reverberating through her and bouncing off all of the walls of her insides. It felt like arrows shot from fifty paces, true to their target. She clutched her petticoat with white knuckles. “Perhaps while the duchess browses, your other shop girl would kindly direct me to it.”
    “Ah, Your Grace! Miss Grant is the proprietress of this fine establishment, no mere employee. I am sure she would be proud to show off the collection of rare books we have amassed.”
    Proud was not exactly the word, Josephine thought. Aghast was much more appropriate. She saw that she had no choice now but to turn around and smile as if there was nothing at all wrong. She should be pleased to have a member of the nobility in her store. Her fake smile overpowered her face as she wracked her brain to find a reason to stay silent. There was a chance he would recognize her voice, even though it was less husky than the tone she used at the Sleeping Dove.
    “If you please, Yer Grace—follow me, right this way,” she said, significantly higher and much more Cockney than her ladylike upbringing. Sally gave her a queer look at the sound of it. She saw no recognition in Elias’s eyes, just a strange detachment from his surroundings. It was a relief and a disappointment to find she was beneath his notice. He had a ducal comportment; she had seen it many times before. Out in the light of the day, he looked colder and more closed off. His posture was stick straight and all very proper. No one would have ever guessed he had spent the last evening at a brothel. Unfortunately, she still found him handsome. It was dashed inconvenient.
    He followed along the hallway, stylish Hessian boots clicking on the stones. She had to remind herself to breathe. She reasoned that there was little chance he would recognize her eyes or lips or voice—he had been drinking at the time, and he was a duke. He surely met scads of women on a daily basis and they would blend together. Her backupplan, she decided, would be to play the innocent. This was, of course, a delicate way of saying that she would deny everything.
    “’Ere you are, Yer Grace,” she said in the ridiculous accent. “I’ll leave you to examine at cher leisure.”
    Elias picked up a book, glanced at it, examined her with a piercing stare, and set it back down again. A tempting smile debuted on his mouth. It was altogether more daring than any she had seen the night before.
    “Blue.”
    She coughed, a rather harsh expelling of air.
    “I’m afraid the