Love Letters From a Duke Read Online Free PDF Page A

measure of him like an experienced tailor. “Well, it might be a tight fit.”
    There was his out. The livery wouldn’t fit and he could be away from here. Then he’d order his grandfather’s—nay, his secretary—to write Miss Langley a nice note of condolence and let her know that he’d gone completely and abruptly stark raving mad.
    At least she could understand such a situation, since she seemed to be so afflicted.
    But an ill-fitting livery turned out to be the least of his worries.
    Miss Thalia set down her dog, which immediately renewed his acquaintance by sinking its teeth into his boots. Instead of retrieving him, the chit smiled and said, “You must love dogs.”
    Dogs , yes. Leather loving rats , no.
    “Do you drink?” she asked, circling around him.
    “Excuse me?” he stammered, shaking his boot to no avail.
    “I asked if you drink. Do you have a fondness for spirits? More specifically, large quantities of brandy?” She gazed up at him, wide blue eyes very much like her sister’s.
    “I do not drink brandy,” he replied. But he was beginning to think he should start.
    Both the girls heaved a sigh, and Miss Langley rushed to explain. “I fear our cook is a bit of a tippler and we can barely afford her habits, let alone if you were inclined to partake.”
    “Miss, I can assure you that I have no intention of—”
    “Excellent!” she declared, clapping her hands together. “Now with that settled we can get on with more important matters.”
    Settled? Nothing had been settled. Why, they hadn’t even got to the point of his visit.
    “I still don’t think he can wear the livery,” Miss Thalia remarked, her gaze once again raking over his body with a calculating eye. “It won’t do to hire him if it doesn’t fit.”
    “If you are so convinced, then go fetch it,” her sister told her.
    “I will,” she shot back, turning on one heel and marching toward the door. She stopped for a second and turned around. In a flash she bent over and scooped up her dog, detaching the little brute from his boot. She glanced up at him. “Youlook terribly familiar. Have you been in service long?”
    “Not long at all,” he replied. “In fact—”
    But the chit wasn’t listening. She’d shrugged him off and was out a side door and off to fetch the now infamous ill-fitting livery. And with her, thankfully, went her dog.
    Before she returned, he needed to rectify this entire mess, starting with straightening out Miss Langley as to who he was and why he was here.
    That proved to be impossible.
    “I suppose you’d like to know your duties around here,” she was saying, settling down on a chair nearby.
    “Duties? No, Miss Langley, I think I need to make something perfectly clear—”
    “Miss Langley! Miss Langley, if you please,” came a sharp, strident cry from somewhere in the bowels of the house.
    “Oh, dear,” she said, rising from her chair. Her shoulders straightened ever so slightly, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she was bracing for battle.
    And so she was.
    “Miss Langley!” This time the cry came with piercing clarity.
    “In here, Mrs. Hutchinson,” Miss Langley replied in an all-too-pleasant voice that belied the steel set to her spine. “Our housekeeper and cook,” she said in an aside.
    Ah yes, the aforementioned Mrs. Hutchinson. Of the brandy bottle fame. This was turning out to be quite a visit.
    He hadn’t realized how much so until he met her.
    Mrs. Hutchinson was a tall, lithe woman, with dark auburn hair and sharp eyes. If she had a fondness for drink, it wasn’t obvious. “Well, Miss Langley, that grocer fellow is downstairs. Full of cheek over his bill and all. Badgering me like I keep the purse strings. What should I tell him?”
    Miss Langley shot him an apologetic glance, and stepped between him and the housekeeper. Lowering her voice, sheadvised the woman, “Tell him that our solicitor, Mr. Elliott, handles all those matters.”
    “Harrumph. Used that one