And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake Read Online Free PDF Page B

too clearly, Do not say another word.
    Why was it, when Hen was conspiring, she seemed to forget that they were twins, and, as such, he knew all her tricks? Henry had no doubt exactly who was one of the parties that was to be kept separated.
    Him.
    But what lady Hen was trying to keep him from? Usually his sister was dragging all sorts of debutantes and misses and Lady Most-Excellently-Bred past him for his inspection.
    Now there was a woman she didn’t want him to meet? She would have managed to pique his curiosity if not for his overriding passion to discover the identity of Miss Spooner. Still, it wouldn’t do to let Hen think she’d managed to gain the upper hand.
    Not this time.
    “Come now, Hen, are you saying that some breathtaking Incognito is going to be in our home tonight and you don’t want me to take up with her?” Henry winked broadly at Preston.
    “Nothing of the sort,” Hen informed him.
    Henry’s gaze narrowed as Preston and Hen exchanged a pair of guilty glances.
    “Out with it,” he told them, folding his arms across his chest. “You know how I deplore surprises.”
    “You tell him,” Hen ordered Preston. As the oldest (having arrived mere minutes earlier than Henry), she thought it her right to delegate the worst of whatever needed to be done.
    “Me?” Preston shook his head, exercising his position as head of the family. “It would be best coming from you.”
    Hen wasn’t so easily cowed, and had her argument at the ready, even as she made her literal escape by crossing the room to the sideboard. “It won’t be best any way around it. Besides, she is your responsibility. Certainly not mine.”
    This was followed by a discerning little sniff, the one Hen made when she discovered herself straying into lowly waters. Having been born the daughter of a duke, his sister was not one to step down from her lofty perch of privilege willingly.
    Henry turned back to Preston, brow cocked and waiting for a response.
    Steeling his shoulders, Preston came out with it. “One of our guests tonight is a Dale—”
    Henry barked out a laugh. A Dale! How utterly preposterous. And he continued to laugh until he realized neither his nephew or sister were joining him. “You’re jesting,” he’d said to Preston, giving him a slight punch in the arm.
    He must be.
    Preston sighed. “No.” There was nothing in his stony expression that might hint at a late or belabored joke.
    Then again, this wasn’t something a Seldon would find amusing.
    “But she cannot—” Henry began.
    “She is—”
    “Here? Tonight? Are you certain she’s a—” Henry couldn’t bring himself to say it. Utter that wretched name.
    Hen suffered no such lack of conscience. “A Dale. Yes, that is the point. We are to have a Dale in our midst, and apparently we had best get used to it.” This was finished with a wrinkle of her nose and a pointed glance at Preston, which meant the blame lay squarely at his feet.
    “What a pile of nonsense,” Henry told them. “Turn her away.” Never mind that he couldn’t believe she’d even dare set foot in this house.
    She might be a Dale, but both Seldon and Dale knew better than to mix.
    Yet Preston shocked Henry when he said in reply, “I fear it is not that easy. I am slightly indebted to Miss Dale—”
    Henry stilled and then shook off such a notion. “Indebted? Now you are joking—”
    “No, I’m not—” Preston added. Emphatically. Too much so.
    “It is as Preston says,” Hen added. “A most unfortunate situation.” She turned to Preston. “I am glad Father isn’t here to see this day. Inviting a Dale to our house! Unthinkable.”
    One word stood out in Henry’s mind. Invited ?
    “You don’t mean—” he began to stammer.
    “Yes, I fear we do,” Hen replied with the air of one who’d stepped into something while exiting her barouche. “Preston insisted she be invited to the ball tonight and . . .” His sister looked to be attempting to swallow the words