Compromised by Christmas Read Free

post-chaise
and—"
    "Miss Winston traveled on the mail coach alone? Her
parents do not attend with her?"
    "She is all alone. So you see my dilemma. I certainly
expected that Lady Winston would accompany her daughter. I was
rather looking forward to seeing Beth again. I never thought—"
    "Are her manners amiss?" Max was quite sure he did
not see why Fanny was in a fret. It was a bit unconventional, but
hardly unusual for an unmarried miss to stay with her parent's
friend.
    "No, she seems a lovely girl, but her clothes—"
    "Are rags?" So Miss Winston was a charity case and
poor as a church mouse to boot. While it was not well done of the
Winstons to send their daughter without escort and on a public
conveyance, it did not make the girl a total liability. She was,
after all, wellborn.
    His siblings clattered down the uncarpeted staircase
from the third floor. One more flight of stairs and a carpeted
passageway before they were upon him.
    "No, that is just it. Her clothes are to die for—a
bit too fast for a girl not out—and, well." Fanny tapped her lip
with a forefinger.
    Max wondered if Fanny had forgotten how revealing the
current London fashions were. Nearly sheer, dampened gowns were
found in all drawing rooms. The duchess's black silk gown was cut
modestly, a somber tribute to her widowed state.
    "I suppose she should have been presented last year.
She arrived with two monstrous trunks as well as two smaller
bandboxes as if she meant to stay forever. I suppose she has a
great deal of clothes. But I do not understand how she could afford
such fashionable and well-made things. She seems quite enamored of
my lady's magazines—"
    "Fanny," Max cut her off. So if Miss Winston's
clothes weren't rags...
    "I sent my dresser to help her unpack, you see."
    No, Max didn't see. He heard Julia's exuberant
laughter and Thomas calling out as the carpeted passageway muffled
their footfalls.
    "She wouldn't open one trunk at all. I hate to think
what might be in there."
    "Fanny."
    As red stained Fanny's cheeks, her voice dropped to a
strained whisper. "But my maid says that Miss Winston has
undergarments made of sheer red silk. Shifts and stockings
and—"
    The door burst open. Thomas and Julia flew across the
room, knocking into Max. They were big enough to almost bowl him
over and too old to be so rambunctious. He hugged them tight
anyway.
    Over their blond curls he saw what must be the owner
of such scandalous undergarments made of sheer red silk. His
first thought was that even without a dowry, she should arouse
enough interest to be satisfactorily settled.
    She took a step into the room. Her gown caressed her
slender form and the only thought he could raise was that with her
dark hair and midnight blue eyes, she'd look damn good in red silk.
But then again, from the way the jade green material slid against
her body, he was not sure she wore any undergarments at all. In
either case, he'd really like to see for himself what was under
that dress.
    Then he banished the thought as totally
uncharacteristic. He never bothered with innocents and he had no
plans to start now.
    *~*~*
    Roxana Winston entered the massive drawing room more
sedately than the youngest St. Clairs. Both of them had raced past
her on the stair, shouting, "Max is home." Julia and Thomas
threw themselves at the newcomer. He enfolded them in a bear hug,
lifting both the nearly grown youngsters off the floor.
    The joyous greeting for the return of the head of
household was a far cry from what happened in Roxana's home when
her father arrived after an extended absence.
    The intensity of the duke's gaze on her started
flutters in her stomach. Then he ruffled Thomas's hair and grinned
down at Julia. Instead of looking imperious and imposing, he looked
. . . friendly, perhaps kind. "Good grief, I believe you both have
grown an inch. Have I been gone so long?"
    His tousled tawny brown hair appeared windblown and
his skin was ruddy. As she neared him, she caught the scent of