The Third Duke's the Charm Read Online Free PDF Page A

held a measure of appeal on quite a few different levels. But for now, he simply bowed formally and said, “Very well. It is settled then. We are betrothed.”

Chapter Three
    The knock on the door almost made her jump out of her skin, but Louisa somehow managed to stay in the small chair by the dressing table instead of falling in a graceless sprawl on the floor.
    A miracle if there ever was one, though she doubted when her father preached about divine intervention he was referring to this sort of situation.
    She’d eloped. Left. Run off. Allowed the Duke of Sanford’s infamous youngest son to persuade her into the single most reckless behavior—the onlyreckless act she could really remember—of her life, and she didn’t know precisely how to feel about her actions. Regretful? No, because she was wildly, passionately in love and she would never regret marrying Charles, but she was also mindful there would be repercussions.
    There was no question her father was going to be furious. Then there was the part where she’d actually stolen another woman’s fiancé. Not to mention that the Caverleigh family was prestigious and wealthy, definitely of a different social level, and might not accept her. For that matter,
her
family was not going to welcome her new husband either. Though the duke was the benefactor for the village and surrounding countryside, her father did not think highly of the morality of the aristocracy in general. Certainly Charles had well earned his wicked reputation. He’d admitted that much to her in a frank way that had won her heart. It went without saying her stern father disapproved of the duke’s youngest son.
    Yet here she was, in a small country inn somewhere across the border in Scotland, a married woman, and apparently, as a second rap came, this one more insistent, her husband was at the door.
    If she’d come this far, surely it was only logical to let him in.
    Only she was starting to wonder if logic had anything at all to do with love.
    However, she did know she couldn’t leave Charles standing in the hall all night. At the least he might catch his death, for this far north hardly had the most hospitable of climates. It had started to drizzle at about York and not stopped since. Even now rain tapped gently at the window set deep in the stone walls of the quaint, low-ceilinged room. Her new husband had been thoughtful enough to go down to the public room and allow her privacy as she readied for bed, but naturally he wasn’t going to stay down there all night.
    They only had one room, and there was only one bed.
    Though she’d never thought of herself as a coward, it took some courage to rise and walk across to unlatch and open the door.
    He was tall enough that he had to duck to come through the low doorway, and sure enough an eddy of chilly air followed him in. The room itself was warm, the fire cheerful in the grate, yet Louisa felt a shiver that was undoubtedly more nervous tension than cold. After all, she was wrapped tightly in her dressing gown, the sash knotted firmly at her waist, a fact Charles noticed immediately, a hint of laughter showing in the twitch of his well-shaped mouth. Earlier he’d removed his cravat, the informal look of his open shirt emphasizing his infectious smile.
    Charles was devastatingly handsome, tall and lean, always with a teasing glint in his eyes and in general an easygoing disposition. Louisa loved that though he had the ability to be serious, that was not usually his personality, and she had been raised in a somewhat somber household. He loved life, and as a result, he enjoyed it. That facet of his personality had drawn her from their first chance meeting one day in the village, when he, the son of an exalted duke, dismounted from his sleek, glossy hunter and immediately joined a game a group of children were playing in the street, theatrically losing to their gleeful joy. Louisa had stood there, mesmerized, watching the tall, dark-haired young man