Along Came a Duke Read Free Page B

gild his form—for it was perfect.
    Tabitha pressed her lips together in shock. Good heavens, what was she thinking? Wasn’t it bad enough her limbs burned as if she’d been dipped in the very flames of the forge? Her heart pounded with an odd twitter, and she knew she should glance away, not gape, not stare, and yet she couldn’t . . . didn’t want to.
    He shook his head, and his tawny hair fell about his shoulders like an unruly mane. His dark eyes flicked a glance toward her, and for a moment, Tabitha had the rare feeling of being pinned in place—like one of her father’s specimens—as if this man’s very gaze could capture her. But his regard didn’t last very long, for he all-too-quickly looked away, dismissing her as hardly worthy of his attentions.
    Something very feminine inside her ruffled with annoyance. How dare he! Not that she cared one whit as to his opinions, but whoever was he to think his regard was such a boon?
    Nor was she the only one to witness his hasty rejection.
    â€œDon’t be such a curmudgeon, Preston,” Roxley complained, rocking on his boot heels, his hands now folded behind his back. “It is bad form. Besides, you’re utterly safe from the advances of young ladies here in Kempton. Not one of these misses has a hope or prayer of ever finding a man to catch in the parson’s mousetrap.” The earl winked at the ladies. “Cursed, the entire lot of them.”
    Cursed. This brought the man’s gaze up, a flicker of interest in his dark eyes.
    Tabitha, who was rather proud of the Kempton curse, nay tradition, suddenly felt rather embarrassed. Why, Lord Roxley made them sound like country simpletons, and nothing could be further from the truth.
    â€œCursed?” Preston asked, setting the bellows down, one of his dark brows tipping with amusement and his piercing gaze once again fixed on Tabitha. “Is that so?” He reached for a rag and began to wipe his hands clean.
    â€œVery much so,” Roxley teased, winking again at Harriet. “Been that way for centuries. Can’t find a man to marry a one of them. Not and live to tell you about it. Why, they still recount the tale of poor John Stakes, and he’s been dead nigh on two centuries. Named the demmed public house for him after his Kempton bride—”
    Tabitha could take no more. “My lord! No one puts any faith in those old myths.”
    Daphne stepped forward and added, “Certainly not! Why, four years ago, Miss Woolnoth married Mr. Amison, and they were perfectly suited.”
    Harriet’s eyes widened, and she looked about to reveal the truth.
    That Mr. Amison had drunk shamelessly and only married Miss Woolnoth because he had sought a cheaper means to buy her father’s best ram. He might have gotten the sheep, but he’d also gotten a wife who’d nagged endlessly.
    Worse, the Amisons’ short-lived marriage only seemed to fortify the last remnants of the Curse’s legacy that a marriage to a girl from Kempton would only end in tragedy. Mr. Amison had been found floating in the mill pond after a particularly merry night at the pub and a less-than-happy homecoming.
    Not to say that Mrs. Amison had anything to do with his unfortunate accident, but this was Kempton, after all.
    â€œIndeed, my lord. We are certainly not cursed,” Tabitha rushed to say. Tucking her nose in the air, she added, “We simply choose not to marry.”
    Of course, the general lack of marriage partners in Kempton, the dowry to tempt one or the opportunity to gain a man’s attention also factored into her bravado.
    There was a moment of silence from the gentlemen, then Lord Roxley let out a loud laugh, which was grating to say the least, but it was Mr. Preston’s reaction that set Tabitha’s teeth on edge.
    The man actually let out a loud snort of derision. As if he had never heard such nonsense.
    â€œLadies who choose not