Not Wicked Enough Read Online Free PDF Page A

nuptials, your grace.”
     
    “Thank you, though your good wishes are premature.”
     
    “Come now, Mountjoy, of course you’ll marry Jane.”
     
    “I will,” he said.
     
    Lily leaned against the sofa, stretching an arm along the top and extending one leg. She considered what Ginny had said and the manner of her delivery. “I take it this is one of those situations in which everyone agreed the match was a splendid idea even before you’d met.”
     
    “Yes,” Mountjoy said. “That’s it exactly.”
     
    “You love her madly, I hope.”
     
    Ginny leaned forward. “Everyone loves Jane.”
     
    “I adore a romantic tale. She loves him madly, too, am I right?”
     
    “How can she not? He’s Mountjoy, after all. He has a way of getting what he wants.”
     
    She looked to the duke. “Indeed, your grace?”
     
    “Yes, Miss Wellstone”—he smiled—“I do.”
     
    A servant brought in the tea and refreshments, and while the tray was set on a table near the sofa, Lily used the silence to study her friend. “Ginny.” She extended her hand, and after a moment, Ginny took it. Lily drew her to the sofa. “Have you been ill?”
     
    “I enjoy very good health.” At twenty-three, Ginny was two years younger than Lily, and though they were both blondes, Ginny’s hair was much lighter than hers, and her eyes were blue, not brown.
     
    “I can’t say the evidence supports you.”
     
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
     
    “You miss him,” Lily said. “I know that.” She handed Ginny her handkerchief. Ginny shook her head, but took the handkerchief anyway.
     
    “I do.” She pressed the embroidered silk to her eyes.
     
    She understood loss, and Ginny knew that. She glanced at the duke again, meeting his gaze as she spoke. “You have your family to rely on, and that is something fine, Ginny.”
     
    “Yes, yes, I do.” She balled up the handkerchief. “I do know how fortunate I am.” Ginny knew about Lily’s estrangement from her father, and that, until her father came to Syton House, she had lived on her own from quite a young age.
     
    When the tea was ready, Ginny, being the excellent hostess that she was, poured while Lily prepared plates of food for herself and the others. Cucumber and watercress sandwiches, cold ham, bread, crackers, and cheese. The butter was stamped with Mountjoy’s crest, a swan, wings spread and wearing a duke’s coronet with a broken chain around its neck. She arranged and rearranged the food on the plates until she was satisfied with the placement and balance of colors and textures.
     
    “I will engage to fill your mind with happier thoughts,” she said when she’d handed out the food and sat with her plate. Though she was hungry, she didn’t eat right away. She wanted time to admire the palette of her breakfast plate. “One does not easily recover from the loss of a deep and abiding love.”
     
    “No,” Ginny said.
     
    “I am proof one can go on and even be happy.” She leaned to cup a hand to Ginny’s cheek. “We must, you know, even when we’ve lost the person we love most in all the world.”
     
    “Have you suffered such a loss, Miss Wellstone?” The duke set his plate and his tea on a table near him.
     
    “I have, your grace.”
     
    “My condolences.”
     
    “Thank you.”
     
    Ginny covered Lily’s hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve told everyone about you. Even Mountjoy, when he was here before.”
     
    “Don’t change the subject.” She cocked her head. Lord, Ginny must get out of black. “What have you said, Ginny?”
     
    His grace sipped his tea then answered for his sister. “That you are wonderful and amusing, and the best friend she could ever have.”
     
    “I adore being flattered.” She intended to discover why Ginny’s brothers had neglected her until she’d become this pale, wan creature devoid of the spirit she so loved about her. Had neither of them seen how heartbroken and unhappy their sister