The Courtesan's Secret Read Free Page A

thought of any sort for quite some time after that. It was only at Sophia's amused cough that she managed to stand and curtsey her greeting at the gentlemen presented. They were introduced to her in the proper fashion and she supposed she made the proper replies; she had been the recipient of a more than passable education, after all, and one expected certain rules of etiquette and deportment to rise to the fore in uncomfortable circumstances, and meeting the men of Sophia's family certainly qualified as an uncomfortable circumstance.
    Louisa sat back down upon Sophia's white silk damask, arranged her skirts, and tried not to stare.
    No exercises in deportment could have been sufficient to the task.
    First, of course, should have been Sophia's son, the rather remarkable Earl of Dalby. Wavy dark brown hair, liquid dark brown eyes, an expression of smoldering amusement tracing every line of his chiseled features; for all that, he was a boy compared to the man that was Dutton, she forcefully reminded herself. It was unexpected in the extreme that the Earl of Dalby was almost completely eclipsed by the man introduced as Sophia's brother.
    He was a complete shock as he was clearly one of those American Indians one heard so much about. He certainly looked the part. Tall, bronzed, his dark hair falling straight into roughly cut chunks about his harshly chiseled face. His dark eyes were mere slits of speculation and he looked at her rather more closely than she was accustomed to.
    She was dismayed to realize that she was not revolted by it.
    He was introduced as Mr. John Grey, though it became immediately clear that everyone in the room addressed him as John.
    Simply John. Impossible, really, as she couldn't go about addressing him by his given name; though she didn't suppose she would have any need to address him at all. She rather hoped not. Mr. John Grey looked entirely capable of cutting her heart out of her ribs without so much as a hitch in his breathing.
    John Grey was the father of three sons, hardly more than boys in age, really, but again, like Lord Dalby, very forbidding despite their physical youth. George was likely her own age of twenty, and possessed of dark good looks and good height. In all, she was forced to admit, despite his primitive origins, he did rather look the part of a Greek statue. A dark, tousled Greek statue with the most startling dimple in his left cheek, which she knew existed because of his absolute cheek in smiling at her. Really. Hardly appropriate behavior but one entirely to be expected of an Indian, if one could believe the romantic and highly suspect rumors of them.
    She was beginning to believe that the rumors might have more merit than she had at first supposed.
    John the Younger was the middle son, and a more aristocratic face would be difficult to imagine. Of course, like the others, he was unfashionably dark of complexion, but it did not at all diminish his elegant athleticism. He looked to be about eighteen. Another mere boy when compared to her Dutton.
    The youngest of Sophia's surprising nephews was introduced as Matthew, and he was surprisingly stunning in appearance. Young, yes, too young, but with the cleanest features and the bluest eyes set beneath the most classic brows; he looked what he was, that is, an Indian and savage. But therein lay the problem; savagery had never before looked quite so compelling.
    It was completely inappropriate for her to take any note at all of these savages when there were two very likely titled gentlemen in the room as well, besides Lord Dalby. They were the guests, apparently, and Sophia seemed quite as surprised and perhaps slightly delighted that they'd joined her son's party.
    "One would think you'd ridden to the hunt, Markham. Just look at what treasures you've brought home for me to enjoy," Sophia said, smiling at the Lords Penrith and Ruan, the treasures .
    "Now, Mother," Dalby, who clearly also answered to Markham, said, "don't frighten them