Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke Read Online Free PDF Page A

tending his own garden, as it were—that idiotic clause in his father’s will which stipulated that the disappointing heir he’d produced with his disappointing wife prove himself at least half a man by marrying before his thirtieth year, and by becoming a father by his thirty-first. Back when he’d inherited the title—God, had it truly been eleven years now?—the paragraph had seemed ridiculous. By now he’d expected to have overcome his … reluctance to be a husband, for the memories of his own parents and their so-called marriage to have faded away. And now with an almost absurd abruptness, he’d run out of time.
    It wasn’t that he disliked women. Far from it. In fact, the list of his former mistresses was nearly as long as that of his business and social appointments. Mistresses served two purposes as far as he was concerned. They frequently knew a selection of unexpected gossip, but it was equally important that they simply be … available, and whenever he decided to call. But a wife, someone who never actually went away when he’d tired of her, that was a completely different tangle.
    He’d parted company from his last mistress, Lady Helena Brennan, some six weeks ago. While he hadn’t engaged her for her wit, he had expected honesty about any other entanglements. Unfortunately, dishonesty had proven to be the quality she had in most abundance. And so he’d arrived in Yorkshire alone. He wondered what Helena would have thought if she’d known how close she’d come to becoming the Duchess of Greaves, simply to save him the effort of looking elsewhere. Now he could only be thankful that she’d disappointed him before he could ask the bloody question rather than after he’d donned his shackles.
    The timing of this damned storm and the subsequent collapse of the old stone bridge yesterday couldn’t have been worse. A week later and all his guests would have been safely to Greaves Park, warm and well provisioned until spring thaw, if necessary. Now, however, not even Eustace’s husband, Phillip Landen, had arrived, though Adam hardly counted anyone who would willingly marry into the Baswich family as someone with whom he would care to converse, much less call a friend or an ally. As this holiday had become about something other than a gathering of friends, anyway, what he required was marriageable females. What he had at the moment was one potential mistress—which, although more pleasant to contemplate, simply wouldn’t suffice.
    He’d instructed that ropes and pulleys be strung across the Aire at the bridge, so at least mail could travel back and forth. And now he needed to find an engineer, an architect, and a quantity of stonemasons. In the meantime, he went to work finishing with sending word to any guests who might be traveling to Yorkshire that they were not to turn around and go home. For those who might have already reached Etherton on the far side of the river, he would pay for their accommodations if they would wait for the bridge to be repaired, or they could risk an additional four days of travel through the rugged, snow-covered Yorkshire countryside and go around.
    “Damnation.”
    “Shall I take that as a signal that I shouldn’t disturb you?”
    Adam looked up again from his desk. And choked back a completely inappropriate grin. “Sophia. I see you found something other than onion sacks to wear.”
    She brushed a hand down a very yellow, very oversized muslin gown. It appeared to be held up by hair ribbons knotted around the waist and shoulder straps sewn into the existing sleeves. “I’m afraid Mrs. Brooks is a fraction larger than I am.”
    “I would agree with that assessment.” Eustace was much nearer to Sophia’s height and weight, but he wouldn’t trust his sister not to poison any gown she was forced to lend his sole houseguest. “I have several other females on staff. Surely one of them owns attire that doesn’t make it look as though you’re wearing a