Beguiling the Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page A

with a fervent wish for your early return.
     
    Your servant
     
    Helena shook her head. She’d instructed Andrew never to sign his name on his letters. That precaution became moot when he referred to both his book and his mother’s house by name. But this was not his fault. If he were capable of subterfuge, he wouldn’t be the man she loved.
     
    She was tucking the letter into the inside pocket of her jacket when Venetia returned to the room, smiling. “What do you say we make a foray to Boston tomorrow, my love, and see what their milliners have to offer? Those hats you’ve brought are perfectly serviceable for speaking to professors and lady students. But we must do better for meeting dukes.”
     
    “He will have eyes only for you.”
     
    “Balderdash,” said Venetia firmly. “You are one of the loveliest women I know. Besides, if he has any sense, he will know that the best way to judge a woman is to observe how she treats other women. And when he sees you with your plain hat from two Seasons ago, he will immediately conclude that I am a selfish cow who ornaments myself like a Christmas tree and leaves you dressed in rags.”
     
    If Venetia wanted Helena to believe that she was interested in the duke, then she shouldn’t have spent the four years since she became a widow for the second time cordially turning down every proposal that had come her way.In fact, Helena was convinced Venetia would swim the English Channel before she took another husband.
     
    But Helena would play along, as she’d played along since Venetia unexpectedly turned up at Huntington. “All right, then, but only for you, and only because you are getting on in years and soon will only have gentlemen callers when they mistake your door for their grandmother’s.”
     
    Venetia laughed, spectacularly beautiful. “Piffle. Twenty-nine isn’t that old—yet. But it’s true I might not have another chance of becoming a duchess if this one goes by. So you’d better have a proper hat.”
     
    “I will allow you to select one for me that looks like a carnival.”
     
    Venetia placed her arm around Helena. “Wouldn’t it be marvelous if you met the perfect man this Season and accepted his proposal? Then we could have a double wedding.”
     
    I’ve already met the perfect man. I won’t marry anyone else.
     
    Helena smiled. “Yes, wouldn’t it?”
     

CHAPTER 2
     
    S he was dressing—buttoning her combination, pulling on her stockings, stepping into her petticoat, her motions unhurried, dancerlike. Her back was to him, but the vanity mirror provided an unobstructed view of the rest of her. He remained in bed, his head propped up on his palm, and watched the ripple and sway of her dark, unbound hair.
    Outside, a woodpecker tapped diligently. Inside, the late afternoon sun receded from the room, the wedge of dappled, coppery light on the ceiling growing ever more indistinct. Her twilit beauty was less precise—as if she had been turned into an Impressionist painting, brushstrokes of color and shadow. He could look at her without feeling as if he must shield his eyes or risk damaging them.
     
    He reached out, took a loose curl of her hair, and wound it about his fingers, bringing her closer to him.
     
    She acquiesced easily, sitting down at the edge of thebed and looping an arm around his shoulders. “Haven’t you had enough of me?” she asked, smirking.
     
    “Never.”
     
    “Well, no more for you now, sir—I must summon my maid. And why aren’t you getting ready?”
     
    He stroked the inside of her elbow. “I’ll start in another quarter hour. Meanwhile I’ll use you to help me pass the time.”
     
    She laughed and slipped away from his grasp. “Later. After the ball—maybe.”
     
    The woodpecker struck ever louder.
     
    Christian bolted upright in his bed. The room was dim, its recesses murky; the fire in the grate had burned down to embers. There was no one with him, beautiful or otherwise. It was the morning of