Bedding Lord Ned Read Online Free PDF Page A

then.”
    Damn. Whom had Mama invited for him? He—
    No, he would try to like at least one of Mama’s choices. He’d decided. He clenched his hands.
    He was still holding the red silk drawers, and Ellie was on the verge of escaping. “Ellie?”
    She paused, her weight on the balls of her feet, leaning toward the corridor and freedom. Clearly she wanted to be elsewhere. “Yes?” Even the tone of her voice, short and tight, said she wanted to leave.
    Wasn’t she at all happy to see him?
    He was being ridiculous now, like Mama. He’d seen Ellie at Twelfth Night, though now that he thought of it, he’d hardly spoken to her. She seemed to prefer Ash’s company.
    She hadn’t always. When she was a girl, she’d shadowed him—at least that’s what Ash and Jack always said. And she’d been such a good friend to him after Cicely and the baby died. God, he didn’t know what he would have done without her calm compassion. But for the past year or two, they’d hardly spoken.
    â€œDid you have a question, Lord Edward?”
    He hated it when she called him that. He held up the red silk. “Are these yours?”
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    â€œHiding from Mama and her guests?” Jack asked as Ned stepped into Ash’s study. Jack was sprawled in one of the big leather chairs, his leg thrown over its arm, a brandy glass clasped loosely in his fingers. A sling made of cloth to match his waistcoat was abandoned on his chest.
    â€œNo more than you are. When did you get in?”
    â€œJust after you, apparently.”
    Ned frowned as he closed the door behind him. “At least you beat the snow—and shouldn’t you be wearing that sling?” It was just like Jack to be so careless.
    Jack rolled his eyes. “No, Lord Worry. The sawbones said I was good as new.”
    â€œDon’t call me that.” Jack had teased him with the dratted nickname since they were boys. “Your collarbone can’t be healed yet—you broke it just a fortnight ago, didn’t you, racing your damn curricle on the ice?”
    â€œAh, but it turns out it wasn’t broken,” Ash said from his seat behind his desk, its surface littered with sketches as always. He reached for the decanter. “Brandy?”
    â€œThanks.” Ned’s stomach was starting to twist again. He’d taken Breen’s powders and lain down, but it hadn’t helped. He’d kept thinking about Ellie and those red silk drawers.
    Ellie was so ... well, ordinary . Not in a bad way, of course. She was solid and respectable—not at all the kind of woman to wear red silk drawers.
    Except apparently she was.
    The thought was damn unsettling. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d pictured her with that red garment. Not wearing it, of course—that was beyond his imagination. Just holding it. But still, he hadn’t been able to get the notion out of his head. It was like seeing a hedgehog with a waistcoat—preposterous.
    Perhaps a little distilled medicine would settle his nerves. He glanced at the sketches on Ash’s desk as he took the proffered glass. “What’s this? Are you planning to build a castle?”
    Ash swept the drawings into a pile. “No, I was just keeping busy, waiting for Mama to drag me out to play host, though I’m fervently hoping Father returns in time to do the honors.”
    â€œI think you should build the thing,” Jack said. “It would make a splendid folly”—he shot Ash a look and then returned to contemplating his brandy—“or playhouse. Remember when we used to pretend to be King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable? This would make a perfect Camelot. You should put it on the island in the lake at Blackweith.”
    Damn. Blackweith was the estate where Jess lived. Was Jack trying to stir up a hornet’s nest?
    Apparently.
    â€œAnd speaking of Blackweith,” Jack said,