My Lord Hercules Read Free

bench, bringing his handsome face within a
hairsbreadth of Miranda’s. His eyes – a lovely green, she could see
now that he was so close – twinkled in the moonlight filtering into
the hack. His whiskey-scented breath tickled her cheek. “As I see
it, Miss Bartlett, I can’t tell your brother about our meeting, but
neither can you. So you can either tell me your first name or I can
claim a kiss instead for my troubles. Marston will be none the
wiser, no matter your choice.”
    Miranda’s mouth fell slightly open and
tingles raced across her skin when Hercules’s gaze lowered to her
lips. Did he truly mean to kiss her? Good heavens! Why should the
idea of kissing some strange man elicit such a reaction in
her?
    “ On second thought, I’d
rather you not tell me your name.” His voice rumbled across her
lips, which made her heart thump and something pool deep in her
belly.
    But she couldn’t kiss him. She didn’t
even know him. “Miranda.” Her name came out in a rush of air as she
leaned back against the squabs.
    Hercules chuckled and looked rather
pleased with himself. Had he tricked her into telling him? The
fiend! “Harrison Casemore,” he said as he leaned back on his bench.
“So very nice to meet you, Miss Miranda Bartlett.”

 
     

    Harry was still grinning the next
morning as he sat at his brother’s breakfast table. The image of
Miranda Bartlett leaping from the hack and scampering around to the
mews behind Number four Curzon Street had replayed in his mind all
evening. He doubted he’d ever forget the sight of her shapely legs
as she ran toward her home. A more spirited girl he didn’t believe
he’d ever met, and that was saying something.
    “ Fill your pockets last
night?” His older brother, Everett Casemore, the Marquess of
Berkswell’s voice interrupted the lovely vision still dancing
around in Harry’s mind.
    “ I beg your pardon?” He
focused on his brother, who had at some point taken a seat across
from him at the breakfast table. When had he done that?
    “ You’re smiling like the cat
that ate the cream. Did you abscond with the entirety of some
fellow’s fortune last night?” Berks eyed him warily.
    Harry shook his head. “Did poorly at
the tables, actually.” But he felt like he might have won something
much more important, a battle of will and wits against a very
interesting young lady. She was quite the diversion from his
losses. She could, he suspected, be quite the diversion from a lot
of things, if given half a chance.
    “ Who knew losing would make
you smile like a dolt.”
    Harry shrugged. “I was thinking about
paying Pippa a visit this afternoon. You’re welcome to join me, if
you’d like.”
    Berks frowned at him as though he’d
sprouted a second head. “I’ll be in the Lords today.”
    Which Harry knew perfectly well, but
his mind was still in a bit of a jumble. If Berks was in
parliament, then Marston should be too, shouldn’t he? And Number
Four, Curzon Street, was not too far from St. Austell House. “Not
all peers take their responsibility as seriously as you
do—”
    “ No, St. Austell won’t be in
his seat, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    Harry managed not to snort. He
certainly hadn’t meant their dissolute brother-in-law. He shook his
head. “I’d be surprised if he was. No, I was wondering about
Marston. Devlin Bartlett was never meant to be the heir. Just
wondering how he’s taken to his new responsibilities.” And whether
or not Harry could count on the new viscount being at home that
afternoon.
    “ Tragic,” Berks agreed. “And
the poor fellow has three sisters on the market. Having only Pippa
was bad enough.”
    “ Really only two sisters
left,” Harry added. “Since the eldest has agreed to wed
Puttenham.”
    Berks smiled. “Marston got off easy
there. Puttenham’s not the most interesting fellow in the world,
but more upstanding than St. Austell.”
    “ The girl must be
level-headed.” Much more so than at least one