Duchess For A Day
They were well-matched opponents in the game of seductionTempted by the idea of living a life she could only imagine, Claire Orwell decides to impersonate the flamboyant Duchess of Beaumont when she's mistaken for the merry widow. Of course, there's only one way for the innocent young woman to be convincing–she'll need to seduce the most sought-after man in Saratoga Springs…by playing hard to get.Wealthy, eligible and wildly attractive, Hank Cassidy has never found himself so mesmerized by a woman. After one look, he knows he must make her his. But the duchess is not an easy conquest, and he soon finds himself caught in a seductive game of cat and mouse. Until passion gives way to true love–and they discover there's far more to lose than either had bargained for…
Читать Duchess For A Day онлайн беплатно
“How do I look now?” Claire asked, nervously tugging at the low-cut bodice of her gown, pulling it higher. “I feel naked.”
Olivia laughed, brushed Claire’s hands away and urged the bodice back down. “You look beautiful. And remember, you’re not Claire Orwell—you’re the brazen Duchess of Beaumont.”
“That’s true. I’m sure the duchess has no qualms about displaying her décolletage.”
“None whatsoever.” Olivia’s smile became wicked when she said, “I’ve heard it whispered that since Charmaine Beaumont’s husband—the pompous old duke—died five years ago, she has taken any number of handsome lovers. Are you planning to add a few to her list?”
“Only one,” said Claire without hesitation, the image of the dark stranger she’d caught sight of this afternoon flashing into her mind. She stated the unguarded truth. “I would like—just once in my life—to have a grand passion. To know what it’s like to make love with a man who can sweep me off my feet and dazzle me. I shall do the duchess proud. I assume Her Grace can choose any man she wants. So I fully intend to pick the most sought after man in Saratoga.” She paused and added, “And then seduce him.”
“Seduce him? How?” asked Olivia.
Claire smiled, catlike. “Why, by ignoring him, of course.”
Also by NAN RYAN
CHIEFTAIN
NAUGHTY MARIETTA
THE SCANDALOUS MISS HOWARD
THE SEDUCTION OF ELLEN
THE COUNTESS MISBEHAVES
WANTING YOU
Contents
One
London, Wednesday June 26, 1895
Newgate Prison
6:00 p.m. British Summertime
At shortly after the hour, a stern-faced turnkey dropped a ladder down from his perch high atop the catwalk. He turned and handed a frightened Claire Orwell down that ladder and into the infamous prison’s crowded Common Cell.
Claire’s presence caused an immediate stir. The criminals snapped to attention. Bloodshot eyes popped open and clung to the blond, willowy young woman.
“Meet yer ’ospitable mates.” The gruff turnkey gave a nasty grin as the curious crowded closer. “Street thieves. Pickpockets. Footpads. Shoplifters. And whores. You’ll fit right in, eh?”
The turnkey kicked a sleeping derelict out of the way. The bony, sweat-soaked felon groaned, rolled over, belched loudly, then fell back to snoring. Sickened by the pungent scent of stale vomit emanating from the prostrate creature, Claire made a face of disgust.
The turnkey laughed again. “Not to fret. T’aint nothin’ ye won’t get used to, Queenie.”
Claire felt her stomach roll.
“’ere, dearie, sit by me.” This from a diseased-looking woman with brittle, dyed-black hair and grimy clothes.
The woman yanked her soiled skirts up around bruised thighs and batted her matted eyelashes. Claire shuddered as the others hooted and whistled, obviously enjoying the look of repugnance on her face.
A chill skipped up her spine. “I beg you, sir, allow me to speak to a barrister at once. You cannot imprison me before I’ve even been accused. A cell at police headquarters if you must, but don’t leave me down here. I’ve done nothing wrong. I am innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“Aye, that’s what they all say,” was his curt reply. He adjusted his black uniform coat with its two rows of brass buttons, shoved his billed cap forward on his broad forehead and, none too gently, propelled Claire forward. “A few nights down here, Miss Sticky Fingers, and you’ll think twice ’fore ye go stealin’ from yer betters again.”
Claire said nothing more. It was no use. He wouldn’t listen. No one would listen. She had spent the whole long day fruitlessly attempting to persuade the authorities that she had done nothing wrong. Now the terrible thought struck her that no one would know she was imprisoned here save the vengeful, titled knave who had lied to put her here.
Claire had to let someone know what had happened. Surely even prisoners were allowed to send messages, to have visitors, to retain counsel.
She firmly set her jaw as the turnkey, roughly gripping her upper arm, thrust her on through the motley horde of criminals lying about in clumps on the dirty dungeon floor. All were watching her every move, muttering, making lewd gestures and grinning slyly. Claire artfully dodged dirty hands reaching out to grab at her long, flowing skirts. She made eye contact with no one.
Newgate was everything she’d heard it was.
And more.
A filthy hellhole into which the very dregs of humanity had been cast and forgotten. A dank, putrid place filled with scum and riffraff and dangerous criminals of both sexes. A dungeon where the only light came from small, dirty windows high above the catwalk.
