The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series Read Free

that brought a blush to her porcelain complexion.
    “Fancy that,” he murmured to the woman at his right. “I didn’t know there were any ladies left in London who could still blush.”
    “Do not behave like a rake, Your Grace,” Sir Godfrey whispered from behind the counter. “This is Miss Charlotte
Boscastle
. You know how indebted the maestro is to her family.”
    “Who isn’t?” the duke mused.
    “She is also the lead seamstress at the Scarfield Academy for Young Ladies.”
    “God forbid,” Gideon said, straightening in alarm. “A lady with an operative brain in her head. Who’s going to protect me?”
    The tart clinging to one of his arms giggled. “As if anyone could threaten a man of your largesse.”
    He glanced down at her in amusement. “I suspect the word you just used doesn’t mean what you think it does. At any rate let’s not discuss my ‘largesse’ in public.”
    He had laughed off that afternoon; he had forgotten it until tonight. He had been busy practicing at Fenton’s academy, and while it was true that the blushing schoolmistress had momentarily caught his eye, Gideon was in the market for a different sort of mistress. Not one who obeyed rules in bed, but one who broke them and made up a few along the way. He wouldn’t object if she had a brain, though.
    Therefore it surprised him that he had recognized Charlotte the moment he’d entered the ballroom. There were young women everywhere. He couldn’t even recall the names of the ladybirds who had accompanied him to the emporium, and he had been far more intimate with that pair than with the frost maiden.
    Charlotte Boscastle. He looked directly at her once. She returned the courtesy with a scowl that could have curdled milk. He should have known better than to attend a party given for a group of finishing-school girls. He’d be better off wandering into the conservatory and talking to the Greek statues. At least that way he was fulfilling his function as a guest at the party—all eligible young men of high lineage having been invited—and he wasn’t likely to cause any trouble.
    But no sooner had he made the decision to sneak off than trouble in another form appeared. Lord Devon Boscastle detached himself from his throng of friends and stepped into Gideon’s path. “You can’t leave yet, Wynfield. We haven’t talked once. I hope you aren’t avoiding me. I didn’t mean to stab you at practice the other day.”
    “Are you trying to lure me into a dark corner?”
    Devon’s blue eyes brimmed with devilish intent. “Sorry, but I’m a married man. As you should be at your age.”
    Gideon hesitated. “I
was
married.”
    “I— Oh, God. Yes, I did know that. Sorry.” Devon said awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to—”
    “It’s fine, Devon. It’s been almost five years. I didn’t even know you then.”
    Devon lowered his voice. He was the playful brother in the Boscastle family, the prankster and amusing friend, who had become a devoted husband and father of a littlegirl. But as a reformed sinner he still liked to stir up mischief whenever he could, and Gideon, along with Devon’s other friends, had come to expect the unexpected from him.
    “What do you have planned for the night, Gideon?” he asked, his voice benign.
    “An escape. From this party.”
    “Why?”
    “Why? Look around you. We are outnumbered by innocents, up to our shoulders in educated virgins, who, from a bachelor’s point of view, are the most dangerous entity in London.”
    “I was looking at it the other way around,” Devon said. “A libertine could easily lead one of the innocents down the primrose path of dalliance. All he’d have to do is follow the footsteps Grayson wore through the carpets before he walked down the aisle.”
    “I’m not in the mood for a maiden. Anyway, you’re married, a fact that renders any advice you offer null and void.”
    “Do me a favor, Wynfield.”
    Gideon’s first instinct was to refuse outright. “I know