Follow My Lead Read Online Free PDF Page B

Society’s rooms, but you always seem so engrossed, I’ve not wanted to interrupt you to introduce myself.”
    “Ah. Well, as you seem to be aware, I am Rayne. And Miss, er, Crane.” He turned to address her frozen form. “Are you quite well?”
    But Winn was not well. Nowhere near it. Because . . .
    “It’s ruined,” she managed in a small voice.
    Her letter. Her letter of introduction written to Lord Forrester in her father’s own hand was nothing more than a bunch of squiggly, running black lines on wet parchment.
    “I’m so sorry,” the Duke sympathized. “I take it the page was important.”
    Important? It was everything. It was what allowed her to be here with legitimacy.
    “It’s nothing, Your Grace,” George toadied, positioning himself by Winn’s side. “Just some notes, correct, Winnifred? I apologize, sir, we should be getting back home. My cousin has . . . a dinner to dress for. But, I was wondering, sir, if you would be attending the lecture series this coming week?”
    “No,” Winn said distractedly.
    “No?” the Duke replied when George did not.
    “No, I don’t have a dinner party to dress for. Nor am I leaving.”
    “Winnifred . . .” George warned, his voice kept just under angry.
    “I have an invitation, George.”
    “Not anymore, you don’t,” he replied, flicking his eyes to the wet paper in her hand.
    “Actually, George, sadly that piece of paper is still dry.”
    As a quizzical look crossed her cousin’s brow, the Duke’s eyebrow went up.
    “An invitation?” the Duke said, his interest piqued. And in that moment, Winnifred recognized him. From a decade ago. Jason Cummings, Marquis of . . . something or other. Now the Duke of Rayne. And George was bending over backward to impress him. Winn almost laughed aloud.
    “Yes,” she said, her back suddenly straight, her purpose refound. “I have an invitation to call on Lord Forrester at the Society of Historical Art and Architecture of the Known World at my earliest convenience.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I find now remarkably convenient.”
    And with that, she took her folio, her wet page held securely but at arm’s length, and neatly sidestepped George and the Duke, moving with all haste to the east entrance of Somerset House.
    The two gentlemen fell into step beside her. George to her left, eyeing the damp letter in her hand, trying to make out what the bleeding ink might have been that Winn found so important, while the Duke kept pace to her right. He kept his hands behind his back and his head forward. And, was it possible, the man was whistling?
    As their feet struck the stone floor in symphony, she shot a glance at the Duke’s profile. A lock of shockingly red hair bounced over his otherwise unexpressive brow—a last mark of boyishness in the fully formed man he now was. The barest of all smiles played over his lips.
    “Is this amusing to you, Your Grace?” Winn asked with a scowl.
    “Not at all.” Then he seemed to reconsider. “Well, somewhat. A little bit.”
    “I assure you, my meeting with Lord Forrester is not at all amusing to me ,” she replied, her chin going up.
    “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that your situation was amusing. I simply find mine so.” At her quizzical look, he explained. “This is the closest thing to an adventure I’ve had in ages.”
    Winn glanced up at him before smiling a little to herself. “It’s the closest I’ve ever been to an adventure.”
    “Your Grace, I have to beg you to not encourage her in this,” George interjected. “She does not know what she’s walking into.”
    “Obviously, as we just passed the Historical Society’s door.”
    The whole party pulled up short. Winn shot George a dark look as the Duke indicated the door she was meant to enter.
    The heavy mahogany weight of the paneled door loomed in front of Winn, its gravity pulling her forward—but her feet wouldn’t move. All she could do was stare at that door.
    A small collection of