Beguiling the Beauty Read Online Free PDF

his Harvard lecture and someone was knocking at his door.
     
    “Come in,” he said.
     
    Parks, his valet, entered. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
     
    “Morning,” he said, flinging aside the covers and getting out of bed.
     
    The dream, which he’d never experienced before, had been so real. He could have described the translucent muslin curtain on the window, the stylized vines of the Oriental carpet on which she’d stood, the exact length and texture of her hair.
     
    But it was not the intensity of the details that had disoriented him—after some of his more prurient dreams, he could have drawn her with great anatomical precision. Rather, it was the affectionate domesticity, the easy intimacy and sweetness.
     
    “Sir,” said Parks. “Your water grows cold. Shall I fetch you another basin?”
     
    How long had Christian been standing before the washstand, daydreaming, the way a petty thief might yearn toward the vault beneath the Bank of England?
     
    Another five years had passed since he last saw Mrs. Easterbrook, outside the British Museum of Natural History. Some days he sincerely believed he’d outgrown his adolescent obsession. On one such day he’d promised his stepmother that after the lectures at Harvard and Princeton, he’d be in London for the entire Season—to do his duty and find a wife.
     
    Mrs. Easterbrook, who had an unwed sister, was certain to be in London. As the latter’s chaperone she’d frequent many of the same occasions he’d be expected to attend. They might be introduced. There could even be occasions when, for civility’s sake, he must speak to her.
     
    “Your Grace?” Parks asked again.
     
    Christian stepped aside from the washbasin. “Do as you see fit.”
     
    S he looks stunning, does she not?” Venetia asked Millie.
    For the occasion of the duke’s lecture, Helena had donned a promenade gown of deep green velvet. Bridget, Millie’s maid, hovered behind Helena, making sure the drapes of the skirt fell just right.
     
    “She is a vision,” Millie readily agreed. “I love a redhead in green.”
     
    Venetia turned to Millie. “And may I add that you, too, look very well.” The mustard color of Millie’s dress, problematic on most women, somehow worked to her advantage, making her look fresh and unexpected. “The duke will conclude I am a devoted sister and sister-in-law andan upstanding woman. Then he will promptly ask me to curate his private museum.”
     
    Helena shook her head. “Always the fossils.”
     
    Venetia grinned. “Always.”
     
    She felt more optimistic than she had reason to be. But they’d had a good time the past week, touring the backcountry of Connecticut and the pretty islands of Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. Helena had seemed more like her old self than she had in a while. And Venetia was hopeful that by the end of the trip, she would come to fully realize the error of her ways.
     
    Helena was not flighty or thoughtless. In fact, she was usually an exceptionally astute judge of character.
     
    After their first meeting with Millie, during which the latter had said not above ten words, Helena had told Venetia,
Fitz is lucky. She will be a good wife to him.
Millie had proved to be the best wife a man could hope for.
     
    And, of course, there had been the memorable occasion, so many years ago, when Venetia, eagerly in love, had pressed Helena for what she thought of Tony. Helena had answered reluctantly that he seemed to “lack a certain inner strength.”
     
    How right she had been. Which had made it twice as shocking that she, of all people, would behave in a manner that would jeopardize her entire future.
     
    Bridget, satisfied with Helena’s dress, turned to Millie. “Will you be needing anything else, mum?”
     
    “No, and you may have the rest of the day off.”
     
    “Thank you, mum.”
     
    On this trip, they’d brought only Bridget. Venetia’s maid, Hattie, suffered from terrible seasickness and had