Winning Lord West Read Online Free PDF Page B

her
fiancé. They’d share a bed tonight, or he was a Dutchman.
    West felt even lonelier. Especially as
Helena’s current coldness put her bed more out of reach than
ever.
    “I’d like to give Fenella every honor.”
    It was West’s turn to laugh. “I doubt she
gives a fig whether you’ve got a title or not. She’s always been
beautiful, but now—”
    “She burns like a flame.” The burly magnate
blushed, and West liked him better for the awkwardness. “Pardon me.
I’m not usually given to poetry.”
    “Congratulations on your good fortune, old
man. She’s a treasure. In my absence, London’s become Cupid’s
realm.”
    “Thank you. Now Helena is the last of our
widows left to find a husband.”
    “If I have any say, she won’t be a free woman
for long.”
    “So you mean marriage?”
    “Of course. She’ll make the perfect wife, if
I can convince her that I’m not another dissolute rake like
Crewe.”
    “You might have work to do there. Even I’ve
heard the stories about your many conquests.”
    West shrugged, his attention unwavering on
the seemingly oblivious Helena. He didn’t feel guilty about his
exploits. The women had been willing, the liaisons pleasurable, the
partings mostly cordial. He hadn’t owed anyone his allegiance—until
now.
    “I had my moments, but it’s time to settle
down and set up my nursery.” The horror in Townsend’s expression
made him pause. “What?”
    “I hope you didn’t say that to Helena. Or
it’s no wonder your suit doesn’t prosper.”
    Had he wooed her in the stables? He’d been
burning up with fever and hardly remembered what he’d said. “Helena
knows me too well to fall for sentimental twaddle. And too clever
as well.”
    All the Nashes were dauntingly intelligent.
Silas was a famous botanist. Helena devoted her leisure time to
higher mathematics, and funding charity schools for bright, but
indigent children. Robert put his navigational and engineering
gifts into service in the navy. Silas’s youngest sister Amy wrote
papers on the new agricultural practices.
    “No lass is too clever to object to sweet
talk from a lad she fancies. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.
You’re the one they call a devil with the ladies.”
    “Damn it, Hel’s different.”
    Townsend’s disapproval melted into
disappointment. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. And if her late
husband was half the lout I thought him, she’s in dire need of
tender handling. Kindness might even make her believe you’ve turned
over a new leaf.”
    West frowned at this man who promised to
become a friend. “You don’t mince your words.”
    “I’m no milksop aristocrat, you mean.”
    West’s lips twitched. “I think I meant more
than that.”
    “You can’t punch me in the nose with the
ladies present,” Townsend said placidly. “And you’re no fool
either. Think about what I said. You’ll see I’m right.”
    ***
    “He looks terribly ill,” Fenella said, her
embroidery lying forgotten on her lap. Helena who wielded a needle
with the finesse of a drunken axman, cast an envious glance at the
tracery of violets and ivy on cream silk. “It’s so romantic that he
risked his health to rush to your side.”
    All thoughts of feminine accomplishments fled
Helena’s mind, and she stared appalled her friend. “What on earth
did you say?”
    Four pairs of curious eyes leveled on them.
“Helena, are you all right? What’s happened?” Silas asked from
across the room.
    “Nothing,” she muttered. “Go back to gazing
into Caro’s eyes and whispering romantic inanities.”
    Caro gave a soft laugh. “She jests at scars
who never felt a wound!”
    Helena slitted her eyes at her besotted
friend and returned her attention to Fenella. This time, she kept
her voice low. “What utter balderdash. He’s here as Silas’s
groomsman. They’ve been friends since childhood.”
    For such a fairy-like creature, Fenella had a
good line in unimpressed looks. “Don’t be a nitwit, Hel.