When Seducing A Duke Read Online Free PDF Page B

than he had last night. The mere thought of what they might do to each other was enough to waken his cock. He had to stop thinking about her, else he’d embarrass himself.
    Grey left the club through a private members door, where there was less chance of being seen by others on the street or leaving the club. Of course, the hackneys knew about it, which made it all the more agreeable. No one had to feel obliged to make their driver wait all night, coat of arms on display for any and all to see. He gave his direction to the driver, climbed inside, and was soon on his way home.
    The interior of the carriage was nowhere as fine as his own, but it was clean and comfortable—all that he required. He’d certainly been in worse. In his younger days, long before the incident that left him scarred and changed his life, he had been quite the rake, enjoying any and everything that was debauched, debased, and decadent. And he hadn’t cared who knew of it either.
    Amazing how a torn face and vicious beating could change a man’s priorities.
    The hack delivered him to his front door. Ryeton House was a sprawling throw back to another era—a Palladian design with neoclassical elements added by Robert Adam almost a century earlier. Grey supposed it was his turn to add a little something to the design, as his predecessors had, but he hadn’t the heart to make the poor old girl endure any more “dressing up.” He liked her just as she was.
    The interior of the house was much like the outside—old, but elegant, and owing much of its style to each generation of Kanes who had lived there. Never once had the dukedom passed outside of Grey’s direct bloodline, and though he knew his chances of producing a legitimate heir were slim to none given that one had to marry for any offspring to be recognized, he took comfort in knowing that Archer or Trystan would no doubt provide the necessary boy to take over when Grey was long dead.
    The smell of breakfast greeted him as he crossed the hall—buttered eggs, sausage, ham, fresh bread…Grey’s stomach growled in response. He was famished. Instead of heading upstairs to his bedroom, he pivoted on his heel and, after tossing his overcoat, gloves, and hat onto an obliging table, entered the dining room.
    Archer, freshly shaven and bathed sat in Grey’s usual spot, sipping coffee and reading the Times.
    “Get your arse out of my chair,” Grey barked by way of greeting.
    His younger brother bent his newspaper—Grey’s newspaper—and peered over the top with an arched brow. “Well, well,” he intoned, dry as burnt toast. “Look who finally decided to crawl back to the roost. You look like shite.” But despite the insult, Archer rose and moved his plate from the head of the table to a spot on the right.
    Grey smiled. He had stayed out longer than Archer. That hadn’t happened for a long time, and he was decidedly smug about it. “Thank you.”
    He sat down at his usual place, flipped a snowy white napkin over his lap, and removed the mask that had been stuck to his face all night. It felt good to free his skin from the snug leather. He would remove the traces of spirit gum left behind, later in the bath.
    “You aren’t going to bathe before breakfast?”
    Grey loaded his plate with a selection of everything. “No.” He was too hungry—and not at all in a hurry to wash away the lingering scent of his mystery lover. “Anything of interest in the paper?”
    “The usual drivel. Lots of dithering about Russia and Turkey, and the fact that the Princess of Wales is in Greece.” Archer snapped the paper shut and set it aside. “I ran into Aiden and Blackbourne last night at Saint’s Row. They said they overheard Martingale bragging about taking a swing at you. Since you don’t look the worse for wear, should I squelch the rumor soundly?”
    “He took a swing at me all right, and then fell flat on his arse.” Grey poured a cup of coffee. The whole debacle seemed much more amusing in