Scandalous Love Read Online Free PDF

high-necked with wide
leg-o-mutton sleeves, the waist exceedingly narrow, the skirt bell-shaped and
pleated in the back. Isobel was fifty-four, but her figure was that of a woman
in her twenties, and she watched it fastidiously. Likewise, except for the
wrinkles at the corners of her vivid blue eyes and the character lines around
her mouth, her skin was ivory smooth and, with the help of special creams,
luminescent. Her face was a perfect oval, high cheekboned and partrician, the
kind that wears well. She was still handsome and attractive. As a young woman
she had been a great beauty.
    Now, to match the costly
blue silk of her dress, she wore sapphire ear bobs and one wide, stunning
diamond bracelet interspersed with more sapphires. A large sapphire winged with
two small rubies blinked from her right hand. She did not wear her wedding
rings. In fact, she had been relieved to finally lay them to rest along with
her departed husband.
    "I thought I would
find you up," the Duke remarked, striding into the room in tight-fitting
breeches, boots and a loose white shirt. "Good morning, Mother." He
went directly to her and kissed her cheek.
    "Good
morning." Isobel studied him as he sat down beside her at the head of the
scarred mahogany table. No small amount of pride swept her as she watched him.
He was her only child, and she had conceived him relatively late in her
marriage, seven years after she had been wed, at the age of twenty-four. It
wasn't just his striking looks that thrilled her, or his manly demeanor, but
everything about him. For he was an honorable man, a son any woman would be
proud of; as strong, solid and responsible as Francis had been weak, dishonest
and irresponsible. Of course, knowing what she did, knowing the whole truth,
she was saddened too, for even in the powerful grown man, she still glimpsed
the grim little boy who never had the childhood he should have had.
    "I am afraid to
ask," the Duke said as Woodward poured him rich, black coffee. "But
what brings you here?"
    Instead of answering,
Isobel said, "How was the affair last night?" Another servant brought
them plates of eggs, bacon and kippers.
    The Duke smiled
slightly. "A damned nuisance, of course."
    She regarded him,
wondering what his small, satisfied smile meant, then thanked Woodward politely
as he left the room. They were alone. "I am worried about Elizabeth,
Hadrian."
    At the mention of his
fiancee, the Duke paused, fork lifted. "What is wrong?"
    "Perhaps if you
spent more time with her, you would not have to ask," Isobel said gently.
    The Duke laid his silver
down on his plate. "Clayborough cannot run itself, Mother, as you, of all
people, should know."
    "I do know. But
your paths cross less and less, and I know it is bothering her. Even hurting
her."
    The Duke stared grimly.
"Then I am remiss," he finally said. "For I would not hurt her,
not purposefully. She is so busy in London with the social whirl, I thought it
made her happy. It did not occur to me that she might—er— miss me."
    "Of course she is
happy in London, but you are her betrothed. In a few months you will be wed.
People are beginning to talk."
    "Is this what you
have come to tell me?"
    "No. I saw her the
day before yesterday, Hadrian, and while she tries to pretend all is as it
should be, it is clear that she is not well."
    "She is ill?"
    "I am afraid so. She
is very pale, and she has lost weight. I finally asked her directly, and it
took some prodding—for you know how Elizabeth is, never wanting to burden
anybody, God forbid! But she finally confessed to being fatigued all the time,
and although she is not eating any less, she has lost enough weight that all
her gowns have had to be altered. I encouraged her to see a physician, but she
laughed at me and said it is only fatigue and it will pass."
    "Well, it does not
sound as if she is in dire circumstances, Mother, or she would go to a doctor.
I will be in London in a week or two, as soon as I have finished here. I