The Duke of Morewether’s Secret Read Free Page B

her for the rest of his days. Once again, the lady proved she was no typical English maiden with nothing more than the unusual scent she chose. Not a soft violet or even a sweet lemon verbena for Althea. No, her scent was bold but not at all overpowering. Conjuring visions of teal blue ocean and fields of Cypress trees, Christian could almost smell the Mediterranean Sea and feel the breeze that brought her scent to him.
    When did I get so fanciful? He marshaled his composure and turned when she greeted them. His face wore the expected mask of fashionable boredom he hoped fooled everyone because it didn’t fool him.
    “I’m very proud of that piece,” Miss Ashbrook said, and gestured to the vase he had been admiring. “It’s one of my best rescues so far.”
    Christian dragged his eyes from her and back to the large vessel perched on the center of a table. He took in the figures depicted in stark red against the black background. He cleared his throat. “It’s a very … unusual … in the home of a lady … of good reputation, that is.”
    Anna had crept closer when he wasn’t paying attention and, when she peeked around him, she let out a gasp and a reflexive giggle. Served her right, and he hoped she was completely scandalized.
    Miss Ashbrook, however, was not scandalized. Her laugh joined Anna’s, husky and low in contrast with Anna’s higher pitched trill. “Actually, I think I keep it in here, in this sitting room, solely for the purpose of shocking the ton .”
    “I can’t believe I haven’t heard about it,” Christian’s mother said, adding herself to the group gathered around the table, staring at, well at bawdy art, no matter if it was classical or no.
    “Are these people gods?” Anna asked, gesturing with an outstretched hand Christian thought for all the world was damned near desperate to stroke the black pottery.
    “No, although many amphorae do depict one god or another.” Miss Ashbrook lifted the vase with gentle hands and brought it higher to nestle in her arms, all the better for her to lecture on its timeless beauty. “This gentleman here with the tail —” Christian noted she did not mention the most rampant feature of his anatomy “— is a satyr. The lady is a maenad. I believe it is from somewhere between 500 and 600 BC, although I won’t know for certain until I get it home to Greece and consult Father’s texts.”
    Anna exhaled an awed breath. “So old? Really?”
    Christian made every effort to be unaffected by Miss Ashbrook’s fascinating brain as he did her breasts which swelled over the top of the neckline of her vivid blue gown. “You said it was a rescue .”
    Miss Ashbrook smiled at him, her eyes more gray than green, enhanced by the deep azure of her gown. “I found this one by accident, but it inspired me. I rescue Greek treasures whenever I find them.” The smile left her eyes and was replaced with an intensity that was even more striking. “Treasure hunters rape the temples and bring the spoils here and the rest of Europe. When I find them, things like this amphora here, my heart breaks. I know it sounds silly, but it’s like I’m collecting my family and bringing them home.”
    “That’s commendable,” his mother said, though she seemed distracted by the salacious scene played out on the red and black surface of the vase.
    “Would you like to have a tour? I’d be happy to show you the others another time, Your Grace,” Thea told them, her invitation enhanced by a promising smile. “Not all the pieces are as provocative as this piece, however.”
    Christian wanted a tour, and he didn’t care how the rest of her collection was decorated.
    “Oh,” his mother murmured, and then the meaning of Miss Ashbrook’s statement sunk in and she quickly stood. “Oh, of course not. I’m only interested in the history.”
    “Me, too,” Christian shared a knowing smile with the young lady before she looked away. Was there a blush? He’d feel much better about