Secrets of a Wedding Night Read Free Page B

that an opening shot across your bow, my dear. You have been warned.”

 
    CHAPTER 2
    Devon Morgan descended the stone steps of Lily’s town house with ground-devouring strides. He mounted Sampson, his chestnut gelding, and tugged on the reins to head toward the park.
    Who did that woman think she was? Lily, the dowager Countess of Merrill. Bah. She’d gained that title after a month-long marriage. She had nerve. She’d baited him—acting as if she didn’t write that blasted pamphlet—and in the end, had mocked him.
    Infuriating.
    And to make matters worse, since he’d last seen her, he’d somehow managed to forget what a striking beauty she was. When she’d finally deigned to grace him with her presence, he’d been taken aback … very well, captivated, by her walnut-brown hair, violet-blue eyes that slanted up slightly at the corners, her dark fringes of lashes, alabaster skin with a hint of pink at the cheeks, and lips that practically begged to be kissed. A blasted incomparable beauty.
    Clearly, he’d also forgotten she was such a shrew.
    No wonder. Beauties often proved more trouble than they were worth.
    Devon made his way into the park, nudging Sampson into a gallop. He passed the Serpentine and a field replete with daisies, before coming to a halt in a clearing that contained a mix of servants and his best friend, Jordan Holloway, the Earl of Ashbourne.
    Feet braced, Jordan stood about twenty yards from a large canvas bull’s-eye and held a bow and arrow in his grasp. With sure hands, he released the bow. The arrow shot through the air, hitting the canvas with a thud. It shivered perfectly in the center of the mark. A footman rushed to retrieve it.
    “Well done,” Devon called.
    Jordan glanced up. “There you are, Colton,” he replied. “I thought you were lost.” Jordan took his time adjusting the leather straps of his gloves.
    Devon dismounted and tossed Sampson’s reins to a nearby groom. He tugged on his own gloves. “Hardly. I merely spent too much time on a fool’s errand this afternoon.”
    The corner of Jordan’s lip curved up in a mocking grin. “Ah, yes. So, was the poor little widow as charming as you expected?”
    Devon snorted. “Poor little widow … More like a well-dressed viper. That woman is utterly mad.”
    The footman returned with the arrow, and with the canvas clear, Jordan took another shot. His aim was nearly perfect again. “You cannot entirely blame her, Colton. After all, Merrill had to have been thirty years older than she.”
    Devon pulled an arrow from a quiver propped against a nearby tree and took up his own bow. “Frankly, I would have thought more like forty years older.” He squinted at the target.
    “And she was what? Seventeen? It’s no wonder she wrote so eloquently on the ills of the modern marriage.” Jordan laughed and shook his head.
    Devon released the bow. The arrow zipped to tremble unfailingly just left of the center of the bull’s-eye. “She chose Merrill,” he ground out. “It’s difficult enough convincing a young woman she won’t be pounced upon and attacked, without that mad countess filling her head with a lot of nonsense.”
    “Nice shot.” Jordan whistled. “Now that I think on it, didn’t you court the girl back when she made her debut?”
    Devon scoffed. “There was no courting Lily. She was after one thing and one thing only. Money. Any interest she showed in anyone else was merely a form of amusement to her. The earl had the deepest pockets.”
    Devon’s eyes remained on the target, but for a moment he was catapulted back through time to a ballroom and the sight of a remarkable beauty standing across from him, beckoning like some siren from the sea. He’d fallen for her. Hard. And she’d led him on a merry chase. A fruitless chase. All the while, she’d been planning to accept Merrill’s suit. His hands tightened on the bow.
    Lily’s words from earlier echoed in Devon’s brain. “You’ll just have to find