An Ideal Duchess Read Online Free PDF

face.
                  “I’m sorry,” She said, though her tone lacked the proper apology.
                  “It’s uncanny how dark it is for only half past five,” Bron glanced around the hall as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. “Might I have my own electric torch?”
                  “I’ve only the two, old chap,” Bim’s light danced with his shrug.
                  He turned at her laughter to see her shining a light over the items cluttering the wall—oil paintings of Challoner ancestors, large heraldic shields, antlers of several types of deer shot by Bim’s grandfather, and an assortment of swords, guns, and pistols from various ages
                  “Did you notice some of the portraits have holes in them?”
                  Bron walked carefully to her side, skirting around the heavy furniture that had a tendency to loom in his path just before he crashed into them. He looked up at the portrait directly above them and his mouth twitched when he spied the puncture through the curls on either side of old gentleman’s bagged wig.
                  “An unfortunate accident with a pellet gun,” He lifted his shoulders with casual indifference.
                  “That one was shot straight through the nose!” The girl laughed, pointing to the painting a few paces away, where a pompous looking fellow in a black tricorn hat stood in front of garden.                             “Whomever did this must have been very bored or very naughty.”
                  “Would both suffice?” He cocked a brow towards Bim, whose torch light danced across the wall as he joined them.
                  “Ah, Great-Great Grandfather Challoner—he was a wicked one. According to family lore, he regularly practiced the old custom of droit de seigneur , and there are a passel of dark haired, dark eyed descendants of these Challoner bastards around these parts.”
                  “He doesn’t look very wicked; rather like a benign grandfather,” She said.
                  “Appearances, as always, can be deceiving,” Bim placed the torchlight beneath his face, the shadows and flickers of light lending a decidedly wicked cast over his saturnine features. “Isn’t that so, old chap?”
                  Bron rolled his eyes when Bim shone the light over his face and pushed the torch away. As he did so, there was another clap of thunder, and the girl started, clutching at his arm. He was grateful it was his uninjured side, for he automatically tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He released her just as quickly, the imprint of her body’s feminine curves seared into his skin, and he almost wished he could hold her again. He grimaced at himself; he did not even know her name. Fortunately, for his sanity, she shifted away, the beam of light continuing to travel along the wall.
                  “Oh my,” She gasped.
                  Bim shone his flashlight at her. “What is it?”
                  “Someone, hold this chair for me,” She ordered, indicating the ancient-looking, high-backed chair placed sideways against the wall.
                  Her electric torch in hand, shining over a spot on the wall, and before either of them could do as she directed, she hoisted her skirt above her trim ankles and stepped up onto the seat, stretching up to her toes to reach the small painting hooked above a heraldic shield. The chair wobbled a little, and Bron swore, quickly grabbing the carved back with his free hand as she sank back to her heels and then stepped down to the floor.
                  “You little fool; you could have broken your neck.” He forcibly turned the chair so that its back was against the wall.
                  “What’s