Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham) Read Online Free PDF Page A

her form. Slender legs, but meat where it counted. No bony hips there.
    With one long swallow, he finished off his scotch, relishing the realization that the hunt was over. He’d thought he wanted a tall woman. He’d been mistaken.
    He wanted her .

 
    Chapter 2
    M INERVA had spent a little over three hours preparing for her first visit to the Nightingale Club, only to discover upon her arrival that she had to change into something that very much resembled a silk nightdress. Although no nightdress she’d ever worn revealed as much or caressed her skin as lovingly as this one did. After a maid had assisted her in changing, she’d caught sight of her reflection in a mirror. With no undergarments or petticoats between her and the silk, she almost changed her mind and quit this place. Grace no doubt had the right of it, and she should just return to her world, proposition someone she knew, someone she liked even if it was only a little bit—
    But that seemed even more awkward and unsavory than her present course. What if he wasn’t interested in the least or things between them were . . . awful? He would know who she was. What if he told people, his best mates, of their assignation? Grace said men boasted of their exploits. Minerva suspected they made sport of women who did not live up to their expectations. They certainly weren’t likely to confess to any shortcomings of their own. No, coming here was the way to go. The anonymity assured it remained her secret. No one would ever discover what she had done or with whom she’d done it.
    Not to mention there was a bit of titillation to the notion of his not knowing, to her being secretive. Surely men found it provocative as well when an air of mystery was involved.
    Glancing around the dimly lit parlor, she was struck with both curiosity and a dash of irritation. The men were completely clothed in trousers, jackets, waistcoats, shirts, perfectly knotted neckcloths. Why weren’t they forced to wear something that might make them feel as though they were standing about almost naked? Perhaps because a gent’s clothing didn’t leave as much to the imagination as a lady’s might. Still, it seemed rather unfair. Surely, if given the chance, ladies could appreciate muscled arms and bared chests. She fancied wide shoulders. And eyes that glinted with the ability to tease. Most of the men who had visited in her parlor had dull eyes or ones that revealed their thoughts drifting off to other places.
    She recognized several lords. Lord Rexton was standing by the fireplace talking to a tall woman. How she longed for height. Not that she wanted Rexton’s attention. With a blush no doubt creeping from her toes to her hairline, she turned away, knowing it was ridiculous to fear he might recognize her or to be embarrassed by the sight of Grace’s brother wooing someone. He was young, virile. Ladies were no doubt thrilled to have an opportunity to be in his company. He was heir to a storied and powerful dukedom.
    Dear God, she hoped she didn’t run into her brothers. But even if she did, it wasn’t likely that they would recognize her by the sight of her chin and mouth. The rest of her face was covered. She couldn’t do much about her hair, but then the dark russet strands weren’t that memorable anyway. Her dark eyes weren’t the sort to incite poetry. Men weren’t going to drown in them. They were as boring as the rest of her physical appearance.
    Many couples were talking. That was no doubt part of the ritual. Silly of her to think that some man was simply going to toss her over his shoulder like some medieval pillager and haul her upstairs to a bed. She wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. She wanted a bit of wooing.
    A footman approached, carrying a tray of glasses filled with amber liquid and flutes of champagne. Going for the amber, she snatched it up and tossed it back, relishing the burn and the heat cascading through her center. In their youth, she and Grace had never