Royal's Bride. Kat MartinЧитать онлайн книгу.
of clouds hanging low in a gray-purple sky and a spray of white flakes floating down to earth. Noticing she lay in a huge four-poster bed and the walls of the room were a soft pale green instead of the cream color of her room at Meadowbrook, her mind spun, trying to recall exactly where she was.
Then it all came tumbling back: the trip to the country, the highwaymen and the overturned carriage.
The Duke of Bransford coming to her rescue.
His image came sharply into focus and her heart began thrumming as she remembered her first sight of him. Kneeling beside her, against the white of the snow, he looked like a tall, golden angel come to earth. If her head hadn’t been pounding like the very devil, she might have believed she was dead.
Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could recall the way it felt to be held in his arms, remember his worry for her safety, his gentle care of her.
Lily shook her head to dislodge the memory, making her head throb again. The duke belonged to her cousin, a woman far more capable of dealing with a man of his power and social position.
Lily knew the duke needed money to rebuild his family holdings. It was the reason for the alliance being made between the Dewars and the Caulfields. Lily didn’t even have a dowry. And even were she wealthy as Croesus, her past would never allow her to enter into such a lofty union.
Which, of course, didn’t matter in the least.
Jocelyn would be arriving a few days hence and her cousin’s stunning beauty and voluptuous figure would snare the duke’s interest as it did most every male. One look at Jo would offset the brief flash of disappointment Lily had glimpsed in the duke’s tawny eyes when he had learned she was not his future betrothed.
If it hadn’t been entirely imagined.
Lily took a deep breath and reached for the silver bell the chambermaid had placed beside the bed. She rang it briefly and a few moments later the door swung open, admitting one of the young women who had attended her last night, Penelope, she recalled.
“Good morning, miss.” The red-haired girl made a very proper curtsy.
“Good morning, Penelope.”
“It’s just Penny, miss.”
“All right, then, Penny. Could you please help me get dressed? I am still a little weak.”
“Aye, miss. Your trunks were collected from the carriage. I’ll have them brought up to your room while I fetch tea and cakes for your breakfast.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely.”
It was less than an hour later that Lily was dressed and ready to face the day. Descending the stairs, careful to keep a hand on the banister in case she experienced a fresh round of dizziness, she went in search of the duke.
She looked much more presentable this morning, in another simple, remodeled version of one of Jocelyn’s gowns, a warm russet velvet with cream lace trailing from the sleeves and running in small rows down the front. The maid had drawn Lily’s silver-blond hair into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck and she had pinched her cheeks to add a bit of color.
At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered the butler, a thin, elderly man with milky blue eyes. “I am sorry to bother you, Mr …?”
“Greaves,” he said, looking her up and down. “May I help you, Miss Moran?”
“I am looking for His Grace. Would you see if there is a convenient time I might have a word with him?”
“I shall inquire, miss. If you will please follow me, you may await him in the Blue Drawing Room.”
“Thank you.”
He led her in to a once-elegant room off the entry. It had high, molded ceilings, robin’s-egg-blue walls that were in need of a coat of paint and heavy, dark blue velvet draperies. The Persian carpets, a deep royal blue in a paisley design accented with dark green and crimson, were worn but serviceable and immaculately clean.
Her bedroom had also been clean, she reflected, a concern she wouldn’t have to address. She sat down on a blue velvet settee to await the duke’s presence, wondering if he would truly be as handsome as she recalled.
Wondering if now that he realized she was little more than a servant, the duke would see her at all.
She shifted on the sofa, watched the hands on the ormolu clock slowly turn. She glanced up as he walked into the drawing room and her breath hitched. The golden-haired duke was even more beautiful than the angel she recalled. Now that her vision was no longer blurred and her head not throbbing, she could see that he was stunningly good-looking.
And even with his well-formed features and slanting dark gold eyebrows, there was no question of his masculinity. He wore it like the long scarlet cloak that had swirled around him when he had knelt beside her in the snow.
She rose to her feet a little uncertainly and dropped into a curtsy. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
He strode toward her, stopped just a few feet away. “Good morning, Miss Moran.” His eyes were as golden as his hair and as they skimmed over her, she thought she caught a glint of appreciation.
“You appear to be recovering very well. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, I am happy to say. Again, I thank you for your very timely rescue.”
“I assure you it was my pleasure.” The glint was there again, as if there was a secret meaning to his words. She basked in it as his gaze ran over her even more thoroughly. And yet in just a few days, once he met the incredibly lovely creature he would marry, that glint would disappear.
Lily lifted her chin. “I wished to speak to you, Your Grace, in regard to Mrs. Caulfield and your future betrothed, my cousin Jocelyn. The reason I traveled here ahead of time was to insure their visit would be comfortable. Both Mrs. Caulfield and my cousin have rather … specific needs. I am here to see those needs are met.”
His eyebrows drew slightly together. “And your cousin and her mother didn’t believe my staff would be able to handle those needs?”
She had angered him. She could see it in the set of his jaw. “Oh, it isn’t that—truly. Please, I didn’t mean any insult. It is merely that they are used to having things done in a certain fashion. If you would be kind enough to put a few members of your household at my disposal, I am sure I could have everything arranged before they arrive.”
“You are Miss Caulfield’s cousin, is that correct—a member of the family?”
“A distant cousin, yes. The Caulfields were kind enough to take me in after my parents died of the cholera.” She didn’t mention it was four years later and they were barely aware of her existence until her uncle sought them out and asked them for help. Still, she was extremely grateful. It was one of the reasons she worked so hard to please them.
“So you were orphaned,” he said softly, and for an instant she felt the burn of tears. Even after all these years, her parents’ death remained a difficult subject.
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
His look seemed to gentle. “I see …”
And to her humiliation, she thought that indeed he did see. That he realized she was merely a poor relation who lived by the Caulfields’ charity, that she was utterly dependent upon their goodwill. Still, it was far better than living on the street, or in an attic garret, as she had done before.
“The servants won’t be a problem. You may have the use of whomever you wish. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
He studied her a few moments more, assessing her in some way, then he turned and strode out of the drawing room. The instant he disappeared, Lily released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Her heart was clattering, beating a frantic tattoo.
It