Nightingale Read Online Free PDF Page A

wide set of stairs with carpet so thick they didn’t make a sound. They walked down a hall lined with doors. It was hard to imagine such a big house for one man, but there seemed to be no presence of life in any of the rooms they passed.
    He stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall and opened it. The room was well lit, with a fire burning in the hearth. Jemma caught a glimpse of a man’s legs stretched out from an upholstered chair and knew Dane’s valet had been waiting for him.
    â€œStay here,” Dane ordered, leaving her in the hall while he entered the room.
    The valet sleepily came to his feet. He was a short, thin man, who was rumored to be the best “gentleman’s gentleman” in London—or so Jemma had heard.
    â€œTroy, that will be all for this evening,” Dane said, dismissing him.
    â€œVery well, sir. Have a good night.” The valet started for the door, then stopped abruptly, his foot poised comically in the air, at the sight of Jemma lingering in the hall. Obviously Dane didn’t bring women to his room often, a curiously comforting, and embarrassing, thought.
    â€œGood night, Troy,” Dane said, reminding the man of his manners.
    â€œYes, sir, very good, sir,” the valet responded, coming back to his senses. He hurried past Jemma, not even pausing to take a candle with him.
    â€œCome in,” Dane invited.
    Jemma stood where she was, unable to move. She glanced inside the room, both curious and intimidated. This was definitely a man’s domain. The hangings and bedspread were of dark blue with gold fringe along the edges. A fire burned in a marble hearth, its glow carried on by wall sconces that cast their light up creamy walls. There was a desk and full-length mirror . . . but the bed dominated the room.
    She had never seen such a large, exquisite piece of furniture. Like the desk and the bench before the hearth, it was of the highest style. The headboard went halfway up the wall and boasted carved swirls and flourishes. Elegantly turned walnut columns marked each corner and held up the fringed canopy overheard. Four people could have slept comfortably on the expanse of velvet-covered mattress—although there would be only two tonight.
    Jemma quickly averted her gaze, noticing the stack of ledgers on the desk. Beside them was a stone carving of a strong, powerful horse prancing off into the unknown. The desk’s chair was turned toward a globe of the world that was the size of a small table. Her impression was that Dane had been working here and had needed to find some reference on its surface for his vast empire.
    His world encompassed the farthest reaches of civilization and beyond. He’d seen things and done things she couldn’t even imagine.
    Whereas she had traveled the same path over and over and over again. Her life was routine and monotonous, while his had been filled with adventure. In fact, her boldness in coming here this evening was the most daring action of her life.
    All she had to do was cross the threshold into this room.
    Dane watched her, his expression cynical. His eyes said louder than words that he questioned whether or not she’d fulfill their bargain.
    In truth, he looked handsome standing there in his dark jacket and blinding white waistcoat and shirt—and a complete contrast to her late husband. Mosby had been chubby and bowlegged. He’d liked food more than Jemma, although he’d done his duty at least once a month. She’d married when she was still seventeen and with only vague notions of the ways between men and women.
    Meanwhile, here was Dane, who, in the short year since he had returned from the East, had kept some of the most beautiful women in London. He was the kind of lover women whispered about. They said he’d learned “tricks” in the Orient. . . .
    Jemma knew she’d be lying to herself if she pretended she hadn’t always wondered what her