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The Midnight Rake. Anabelle BryantЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Midnight Rake - Anabelle Bryant


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having an introduction, although I’m not one to linger with the debutantes. The name sounds vaguely familiar. Were my sister here we could solve the problem. Julia memorizes the social register.” He glanced out the window at the passing coaches. Myriad stars winked overhead. Such a clear night. A rarity for London.

      For several breaths they heard nothing but the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels.

      And then, “I met a friend of yours today at the modiste shop. Lady Alexandra Ravensdale. She spoke of you with fondness.”

      Excitement punctuated the retelling and he turned his head in surprise. “Did she? Her husband, the Duke of Wharncliffe, and I are great friends. I have known Devlin for nearly my entire life.”

      “Alexandra helped me select this gown.” Her eyes flittered to her silk skirt before rising to hold his gaze. “It is the loveliest dress I’ve ever worn.”

      The honest excitement in her voice entranced him. Lord, his sister possessed dozens of gowns and complained regularly she had nothing to wear.

      He attempted to occupy himself with examining the carriage interior, his eyes hungrily returning to Penelope nevertheless. She should feel special this evening. Each time he glanced in her direction it became more difficult for him to tear his eyes away. She looked exquisite, as tempting and delicate as a French dessert, draped in smooth silky frosting with the promise of a warm, sweet center. The thought of indulging caused his mouth to water, his fingertips to itch with the desire to glide over every curve of the shimmering fabric caressing her delectable body. He swallowed nervously and readjusted himself on the seat.

      “Her Grace is so beautiful.” She sounded a little in awe with the statement.

       Good lord, so are you. Breathtaking, actually.

      “Devlin and Lexi married a short time ago. They are well matched and genuinely happy.” Phin smiled at the remembrance. What were the odds of finding someone to cherish? One hundred? Two thousand? One million to one?

      “They seem exorbitantly so. It’s easy to see she holds his heart.”

       Who holds yours, Penny?

      “Yes, their story is an interesting one. Mayhap there will be a day when we’re kept indoors by the weather or have run out of things to say and I can retell it to you.” His voice dropped to a low tone as if he shared a secret or did not know what to expect in her reply.

      “I am sure I would enjoy hearing it. You make it sound very intriguing.”

       Oh no, it is you who remains intriguing. A beautiful little mystery.

      He studied her profile with intense interest. The picture he’d drawn with his words hinted at a long, satisfying relationship and he could not fathom why he’d suggested such a thing, most especially while he knew the circumstances surrounding her visit. Nevertheless an exhilarating thrill shot through him at the anticipation of a future with Penelope present. That is, until he solved her problem and said his farewells.

      “I would like that.” She smiled and he returned it with one of his own.

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