The Trouble With Being a Duke Read Online Free PDF Page B

here I was thinking you’d forgiven him for that long ago.” Anthony turned to Huntley, who was looking terribly confused. “Goodard indirectly caused my sister to break her ankle one year, leaving her bedridden for the entire summer.”
    “And you’ve been waiting all this time to exact your revenge?” Huntley asked as he took a small step away from his wife.
    Louise smiled. “One ought to pick such a moment carefully.”
    Huntley’s eyes grew wide. “Remind me never to cross you, my dear.” He suddenly frowned. “What exactly happened, anyway?”
    “I’ll tell you all about that later, but it basically involved a hole and a squirrel.” Huntley’s mouth opened as if he planned to ask for further explanation, but Louise gave him no chance as she quickly turned her attention back to Anthony and said, “Now get a move on, will you? Your competitor’s no novice, so unless you hurry up, he’ll undoubtedly depart for Gretna Green with your prize before you have so much as a chance to speak with her.”
    With one last tug at his cravat, Anthony handed his empty glass to a footman and went in search of his first dance partner.

 
    Chapter 4

    W hatever her imaginings, nothing could possibly have surpassed the opulence that greeted her as she entered the Kingsborough ballroom. Ladies dressed in the finest silk and lace, their gems sparkling beneath the thousands of candles that filled three massive chandeliers. Gentlemen garbed in elegant evening black, their shoes buffed and their cravats tied to perfection, all carrying themselves with the utmost grace.
    Spotting a vacant corner close to the orchestra, Isabella moved toward it. She was in no hurry to socialize just yet, for that would mean lying, and while she was prepared to do so, she was more than happy to wait a while as she enjoyed the scenery. No one was dancing yet—they all looked as if they were far too busy chatting with one another, creating a steady hum of voices that rose to compete with the soft rise and fall of the music.
    Allowing her gaze to roam, Isabella noticed that there were large vases filled with daffodils and hyacinths strategically placed throughout the room. Even the refreshment table boasted a magnificent floral arrangement of pinks, purples and yellows. Isabella couldn’t help but smile. She loved daffodils, for they were such happy flowers—a true testament to spring.
    “Excuse me,” came a voice from behind her right shoulder.
    Isabella jumped. She’d been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she’d failed to notice that someone had walked up behind her. Turning around, she came face-to-face with a sweet-faced lady who was in possession of a very welcoming smile. She was not alone however. Beside her stood a dark-haired gentleman who looked equally pleasant.
    “I do hope you will forgive me for startling you,” said the woman, “but we couldn’t help but notice that you were standing here all alone, and immediately decided that you might enjoy some company. I am Lady Winston, by the way, and this is my husband.”
    “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Isabella replied. “My name is Miss Smith.” She’d deliberately chosen one of the commonest names that England had ever known as her pseudonym in the hopes that it would fit at least one of the names on the guest list.
    “Of Flemmington?” Lord Winston asked.
    Flemmington?
    Isabella had never heard of a place by that name, but it did appear to offer her the perfect alibi, so she quickly nodded and said, “Yes, that’s it—Flemmington.”
    A momentary look of surprise registered on Lady Winston’s face, but it quickly vanished again as her husband continued with, “I’ve never had the opportunity to visit it myself, but I’ve heard that it’s particularly lovely this time of year.”
    “Winston,” said his wife. “I don’t think—”
    “The lake is rumored to be surrounded by crocuses, and there are supposedly boats that you can hire if you