How the Duke Was Won Read Free Page A

Charlene’s cheeks until her mouth popped open. “All her teeth. And passably white, too. I must say I am surprised.”
    Charlene jerked away and stood next to Kyuzo.
    â€œShe’s a bit fleshier, though.” The countess cocked her head to one side, measuring with her eyes. “But I’ll be able to squeeze her into Dorothea’s gowns. She’ll do, Jackson. She’ll do.”
    â€œI really must bid you good evening, your ladyship.” Charlene sketched the barest of curtsies and gestured to the door.
    When they didn’t move, Charlene glanced at Kyuzo and tapped one finger to her wrist—­their signal that these visitors were unwelcome.
    Kyuzo took a step forward.
    The countess held up her hand. “Send your guard away. We need privacy. I have a matter to discuss that could prove extremely lucrative for you.”
    â€œAnything you have to say you will say now, and Mr. Yamamoto stays.”
    Kyuzo eyed Jackson and widened his stance. “I stay.”
    â€œVery well.” The countess extended one elegant, white-­gloved hand toward Charlene. “I know you are unhappy here. Let me help you.”
    Charlene hugged her arms to her chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”
    â€œOn the contrary, I make it my business to study all of my husband’s by-­blows. The ones he acknowledges, and the ones he does not.” Lady Desmond inhaled sharply, as if the subject pained her. “You are of particular interest because you are nearly identical to my own daughter, Lady Dorothea.”
    The earl’s legitimate daughter. Her half sister. Charlene had often thought about Lady Dorothea and wondered what her life was like in her fashionable house in St. James’s, worlds away from the chaos and grime of Covent Garden.
    â€œYou have put up a brave struggle,” the countess said. “But it’s only a matter of time before you are forced to follow in your unfortunate mother’s footsteps. Sell yourself. Become a bawd. And Luisa, such an artistic child. What will be her fate? Have you thought about that?”
    Of course Charlene had thought about it. Lulu was still an innocent. She lived in a world of her own creation, intent on the miniature portraits she loved to paint, blissfully unaware of their home’s improprieties. Charlene would do anything to keep her from learning the truth.
    Countess Desmond reached inside her reticule and extracted a thin, rectangular piece of paper. Candlelight caught and held gold-­embossed words and gilded edges. “This is your golden opportunity. An invitation from the Duke of Harland, issued to only four young ladies in all of London.”
    â€œHow is that relevant?”
    The countess handed Charlene the paper. “The invitation is for Lady Dorothea, who happens to be on a ship returning from Italy.” She narrowed her pale blue eyes. “I refuse to let the trifling fact that she is not here ruin my daughter’s chance of becoming a duchess. You were born to play this role, my girl. You will use your . . . arts . . . to snare the duke. He will be forced to marry my daughter. She will become a duchess.”
    Charlene suppressed a hiccup of disbelieving laughter. “You want me to seduce a duke? While pretending to be your daughter?”
    â€œIf you must put it so crudely, then yes. It’s really very simple. Three days of acting for enough coin to achieve your dreams. What is it you want most?”
    That was easy. “Pay our debts, close the Pink Feather, and open a respectable boardinghouse.” Her mother’s health was worsening. She couldn’t sustain the long hours she worked. Charlene would run the boardinghouse. Save vulnerable young girls from prostituting themselves, save them from predators like Grant. “And I want to purchase a painting apprenticeship for my sister.”
    â€œWell then,” said the countess with a slight