Dukes Prefer Blondes Read Online Free PDF Page B

criminal proceedings, some dauntingly lengthy. From what she’d read, he seemed to be sharp-­witted, learned, and tactless to a spectacular degree. Though she hadn’t had time to read everything, she’d thought it amazing he’d won so many cases, when judges, witnesses, juries, and even his own clients must have wanted to throttle him.
    She, for instance, was already growing irritated.
    â€œIf I might begin at the beginning,” she said. “Rather than proceed along the haphazard route of your questions.”
    One black eyebrow went up. “Haphazard,” he said.
    â€œThat was a setdown, in case you didn’t recognize it,” Mr. Westcott told him.
    â€œI thought so,” Mr. Radford said.
    â€œNot that snubs have the least effect on him, my lady,” Mr. Westcott said, “even when he recognizes them as such. Brilliant otherwise, of course.”
    â€œSo I’ve been informed,” Clara said, “else I wouldn’t be here.”
    â€œCertainly, my lady,” Mr. Westcott said. “And since your ladyship has taken the trouble to be here, we ought to proceed in an orderly fashion. Frankly, I’m puzzled why a man renowned for his fanatical attachment to logic has been perambulating into detours in this strange manner. If your ladyship will be so good as to take a chair—­here, by the fire—­or what is, in colder weather, a fire. It’s cleaner—­”
    He broke off as Davis advanced and wiped the chair with a handkerchief and him with a censorious eye.
    â€œYes, quite so, thank you,” Mr. Westcott said. “And if her ladyship would make herself comfortable, I should be happy to take notes. Radford, we don’t need you at present.” He gave Clara an apologetic smile. “Only if it comes to trial, naturally, which—­”
    â€œIt will save time if I listen,” Mr. Radford said.
    â€œNo, it won’t,” Mr. Westcott said. “Because you’ll interrupt.”
    â€œI shall remain as silent as the churchyard denizens under our window,” Mr. Radford said. “The ones belowground, that is.”
    He folded his arms and leaned back against the window frame.
    â€œKindly proceed, my lady. I’m all ears.”
    I t was the chipped tooth.
    When she walked in and caught sight of him, her composure disintegrated, her mouth fell open, and for a moment she looked like an astonished little girl.
    Radford knew that little girl.
    She recovered with remarkable speed, but Radford had seen all he needed to.
    The distinctive Fairfax features he’d identified the other day . . . assorted bits he’d read in newspapers and magazines . . . the nagging sense of familiarity.
    With the chipped tooth, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
    This wasn’t merely one of the numerous Fairfax family members he’d seen from time to time in his perambulations through London.
    This was the little girl to whom he’d shown Vauxhall’s Heptaplasiesoptron. This was the little girl who’d tried to rescue him from Cousin Bernard.
    She was all grown up and dressed in what she fondly imagined was a disguise.
    Unlike the comical hat she’d worn in Charing Cross, her bonnet was dull and dark, boasting nothing in the way of adornment but a darker ribbon. Its large brim did not tilt up in the way the hat had done, to show her perfect face framed in lace and bows. It tilted downward, its shadow concealing her countenance. That was clever, actually. A veil—­the usual ruse for ladies—­would have called attention to her attempt to appear incognito.
    All the same, he would have known her for the Charing Cross female anywhere, even had she been wearing a veil. The drab dress failed to disguise her posture and figure.
    Remarkably fine figure , he was aware of his irrational self thinking. It proceeded to imagine said figure in its natural state. Such meditations were