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

shied away from sneaking into liquor cabinets. She supposed, however, to be attractive to a man, she should at least pretend to have a preference for champagne. It was more refined and ladylike, but just as she hadn’t pretended in ballrooms to be other than what she was, she wasn’t going to pretend here. A man might not see her face, might not know who she was, but she intended to own her behavior. If they shied away from a woman who drank scotch, she wanted nothing to do with them. As much as possible, tonight would be on her terms.
    The footman took the empty glass from her. Before he could walk off, she snatched another one, probably should have taken two, then settled for taking merely a healthy swallow. There would be other footmen, other opportunities, and apparently she would have ample time to imbibe. All seemed to go at a snail’s pace. That was good. It gave her a chance to decide.
    As her gaze swept over the crowd, she realized that she had spoken with most of these lords at one time or another. If they hadn’t appealed to her in a ballroom, what made her think they would appeal to her here?
    You’re not going to marry him. You don’t have to really like him. You simply need to determine if he has the physical qualities to be a good lover.
    This was to be a night for fantasy. For broad shoulders and narrow hips. Kind eyes, full lips. A thick head of hair. Shade unimportant. She scoffed. Maybe hair itself was unimportant. A bald man might make a wonderful lover. Having been judged by her too-large nose, strong brow, and round cheekbones, she wasn’t hypocrite enough to judge a man based on his looks. She wanted someone with a bit of intelligence, a dash of humor, and an interest in the different.
    She considered her options. Lord Gant was dashing, but he tended to spit when he spoke. Lord Bentley was a dull conversationalist. Would he be dull in bed?
    She hated that she was beginning to agree with Grace. This lover business was more than height, strength, and good looks. She needed someone she didn’t know. A complete stranger, not someone who had taken her on a turn about the dance floor or spoken to her during a dinner. No preconceived notions.
    Or she could select someone whom she had fancied but hadn’t fancied her—at least not enough to ask for her hand. The problem was that she hadn’t really fancied anyone, which was one of the reasons she was here. Truth be told, she’d yet to meet a man whom she wanted to pursue her. Perhaps she was too particular. Was it really so awful if a man wanted only her coins? Could he fake passion and caring? Would he? She deserved better than that. Every woman did.
    Starting to take another sip of the scotch, she realized that she’d finished it off at some point. Another should chase away the last of her nerves. Before she could begin to look around for a footman, a deep voice asked, “Let’s switch glasses, shall we?”
    Jerking around, she found herself staring up into the Duke of Ashebury’s incredible blue eyes. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been this close to him. They might have exchanged half a dozen words in passing. Handsome as sin with a devil-may-care attitude, he usually had a bevy of ladies circling about him, vying for his attentions. His tragic past, orphaned at eight to become the ward of a madman—not that anyone had realized the state of the Marquess of Marsden’s mind at the time—caused some ladies to find him even more appealing. They wanted to provide a safe haven and ply him with the love that he’d not had for years.
    And well he knew it. He wasn’t above taking advantage of generous hearts. She didn’t know how many ladies he’d ruined although no ladies had ever confessed to ruination at his hands. But still, the rumors abounded. Yet in spite of his questionable reputation, there wasn’t a mother in all of England who didn’t yearn to see her daughter standing at the altar beside this man. And