The Bride Behind the Curtain Read Online Free PDF Page A

either the law or the military, even supposing the son of a French family could gain a good commission. He found work translating government documents from time to time and had even helped certain gentlemen draft some highly confidential letters, but his background and religion kept him out of the civil service.
    He was, however, a gamester, and a good one. He won frequently and enjoyed winning, but as a way to support dependents, gambling was not safe, and it was certainly not steady.
    That left a rich marriage.
    James’s fists tightened. He thought of himself as a man of the world. He’d been proud of the calluses on his heart. He was certain he could and he would do anything required to provide for his family. He was proud of that, too, although he took care to conceal his real motives from society. The English fashionables hated someone who was too devoted as much as they hated someone who was too poor. If they knew his life was a facade to help those he loved, they would laugh at him and pity him. That would never do. So, he concealed any difficulties behind the mask of fatigue and mischief. By so doing, he had become the darling of the ton’s ladies, as well as the
bon ami
of its gamblers and wastrels.
    The only problem was, looking out through that mask was becoming just a little bit more difficult each day.
    James stared out across the undisturbed landscape of white and silver and let himself savor the memory of his . . . encounter with Lady Adele. His thoughts lingered on her eyes; those rich, innocent, shocked eyes that had been so heightened by the enchanted light reflecting from the snow. He felt her lips, full and sensuous, moving against his skin.
    And that body. She’d trembled just a little as he wrapped his arms around her, with trepidation at first, but then with warmth. She’d smelled of jasmine, and when she’d melted against him she’d been absolutely luscious. She’d kept her head, too, which was . . . surprising. She’d not fled, or fainted, or flirted. She displayed wit, and self-possession in uncomfortable circumstances. Not that he cared to think that being in his arms, and on his lap, might be truly uncomfortable, but he could readily see how a girl unused to the attentions of men might find it awkward.
    She’d been crying when she hurried into the library. He’d heard her struggling to control her sobs. Who had hurt her? Benedict had said she’d been wounded. What might a man—what might James Beauclaire—do to heal such a wound?
    James paused. James considered.
    What if . . . What if he shifted his attentions? In the harsh light through which a man such as himself was forced to regard relationships, such a change might even be seen as prudent.
La plus belle
Lady Patience had a world of suitors, even though the increase in her dower was not yet a gazetted fact. The intriguing Lady Adele—who would be at least as well dowered as her younger sister—was still very much overlooked.
    Non.
    Circumstances might have forced him to become a fortune hunter, but he was not a cad, or a fool. Windford was so far oblivious, but James’s attentions to Patience had already been marked by the other guests, not to mention her sharp-eyed guardian aunt. If those attentions shifted, there would be talk, and embarrassment. Despite this bout of reluctance that had come over him, despite the attraction that filled him, it was entirely too late to choose the other sister.
    Wasn’t it?

III
    James Beauclaire! I was with James Beauclaire!
    Adele’s heart thumped hard against her ribs as she left Helene at the foot of the stairs so she could hurry up to her rooms. She counseled herself to forget the whole thing, to give over her excitement. She reminded herself that the whole incident was entirely indecent and scandalous.
    But herself would not believe it. Herself only thought how delicious it was.
    Of course, he hadn’t