AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To a bedchamber, specifically—”
“You teasing wretch! Do not say it.”
She laughed, clearly delighted that she had greatly ruffled his feathers. “Forgive me for being impudent, you were looking so serious I had to do something to rouse you.”
He grunted noncommittally.
“And did you not say an important part to the art of flirting was to be unexpectedly provocative,” she murmured, a very decided twinkle in her eyes.
“I do not recall saying it to you.”
“Nonetheless, I heard it. Why did you think I was so certain you could be a brilliant teacher?”
Teasing wretch. She made herself comfortable on the sofa, propped her elbows on the cushions and rested her chin on the heels of her hands. God, how lovely she was. It struck him then. He was attracted to all of her and that had never happened to him before. Standing, he went around to her and took the book she held out. The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne by Ann Radcliffe. Sitting on the sofa opposite her, he leaned back against the cushions in a relaxed pose, crossing his legs at the ankle.
She’s always owned a sense of humor which bordered on impertinence. He had perceived her to be shy when they had first met, and it had taken some effort on his part to coax her from the shell. But her reticence was not from timidity he had discovered, but that she found the world around her uninteresting or perhaps boring. They’d found common ground in books, and Percy supposed he had not been a proper enough guardian given the choice of material he had read to her when they had their weekly meeting. Aunt Cecily had spluttered her outrage when she discovered he read books to Freddie like Clarissa by Samuel Richardson. Apparently, a book about a young lady who escapes a loveless marriage arrangement by running off with a libertine was not suitable. How was he to know those materials were considered too heavy for delicate female minds and sensibilities.
Rubbish if anyone asked him. Some of the most rousing conversations he had were with Freddie about those books. He’d once given up a night of debauchery with Juliette. Though she owned enough skills to make grown men weep with pleasure, he’d refused her offer to return to his townhouse for every Sunday was book club with Freddie. They had spent hours reading and laughing into the wee hours of the morning, discussing the merits and themes of Hamlet.
They had done this every Sunday for over two years. And it gutted Percy but he had to bring these late nights to an end. His will was becoming weaker and weaker, and he had to take the necessary measures to protect her virtue and his honor. The shadows when they touched upon her now painted her with mysterious allure. The soft light of the lamp and the fireplace as they licked over her skin gave her a golden hue, he longed to touch her skin to satisfy the need to know if it was as soft as how it appeared. The nights were becoming a dangerous temptation, and he was a damn cad for developing a most violent attraction for his best friend’s sister. Worse, a dead best friend who had entrusted her care and happiness to Percy. He was already botching it with this husband hunting bit. No more. However, he did not say this to her, not wanting the light shining in her eyes to dim.
Opening the book, he started to read.
* * *
Frederica had always thoughtthe marquess’s voice was that of an angel or more like the devil himself. Whenever he read to her, his smooth and cultured baritone reached into places Freddie hadn’t known were cold and empty to fill those crevices with heat and peace. She had always thought his voice a gift, one in which that could be used to persuade anyone to his way of thinking. He would have been great on the stage.
He paused after almost an hour of reading. “Do you want to read some of the pages tonight, sprite?”
“No, I am happy to only listen.”
“Very well.”
He returned to the pages and his voice flowed over her like warm honey. She closed her eyes, absorbing the beauty of the story and recalling how this connection had formed between them. Reading was a pastime the marquess usually shared with her on a quiet Sunday afternoon because he was aware her brother Matthew used to read with her once weekly. It had been by chance two years ago Lord Wolverton caught her curled onto this very couch sobbing her heart out, still raw from the recent death of her brother who had been her dearest friend. The marquess had lifted her into his arms and allowed her to cry. Afterward he had listened to her lament that her brother would never read with her again, after sharing a love for the written word with her for as long as she could remember.
“Miss Freddie, will you allow me the pleasure of reading with you today?” he’d asked the following week, and since then he had never missed a Sunday.
Those afternoons had been some of the most pleasant and enjoyable encounters and Frederica believed it was through those encounters she had started falling in love with this man who owned a dissolute and jaded heart.
“You are distracted,” he murmured.
It was with a jolt she realized he had stopped reading for a while and quietly sat and watched her.
“I was thinking about Matthew,” she admitted softly. “He has been in my thoughts of late.”
A powerful reaction flared in the marquess’s eyes before he lowered his lashes. It looked like guilt and it stung Frederica sharply. Turning it over in her thoughts she realized he felt as if he had betrayed her brother somehow because of what happened in the carriage. She wanted to cry that he was being foolish, her brother would be overjoyed to know that in the end, it was the marquess of Wolverton whom she loved.
He closed the book with a decided snap. “I think he has been both in our thoughts because his birthday approaches.”
Shocked, she pushed away from the cushions. “I did not realize it! But you are correct. Had Matthew been alive, he would have been nine and twenty next week.”
A faraway looked entered Percy’s eyes. “And we would have been laughing and drinking merrily in celebration.”
“You miss him too,” she softly said.
“I do. He was a very good friend.”
Frederica had never asked him how he had met her brother. It had been most difficult to converse about him for so long without her heart breaking and the tears flowing. Deep inside, the pain was still there, but it eased every day. Sometimes she hoped the pain might never go away, so she could live with the reminder of how much she missed it. But she had come to realize the easing of the pain did not mean that she loved him less.
