To Tempt an Earl Read Free

that your friend,
Clairmont, is not dealing well with Bethanny's debut. His
experience being of the darker variety, I imagine he's conjured up
all sorts of evil men lurking in the corners having nefarious
schemes." She shook her head.
    "Clairmont?" he asked, just to make sure they
were talking about the same person. He had kept in contact with his
good friend but hadn't seen much of him since his marriage.
Graham's travels kept him busy, and… well, he assumed Clairmont was
busy with other… er… things .
    "Yes… he's quite overprotective of the girls.
And Bethanny, she's sure to attract the attention of all." His
sister grinned, a strange expression lighting her gaze.
    "How so?" he asked, curious and slightly
concerned over his sister's expression.
    He furrowed his brow as he thought about the
slight-framed girl he remembered. Bethanny. Miss Lamont. Her
eyes had taken up most of her face, deep brown and soulful, and far
older and wiser than her young frame. There was nothing significant
about her, save the eyes. She was thin, too thin, and had the
figure of a boy rather than girl.
    Poor thing. Clairmont was probably afraid
he'd never find her a match.
    She paused then tilted her head ever so
slightly. "Never mind. The truth is that Carlotta rather thought
that her husband might welcome your company to distract him from
the stressful situation."
    "Oh, was that it?" he asked, though he was
sure he already knew.
    "Yes."
    "Not a problem. When did you say the debut
was?"
    "Tomorrow."
    "Perfect. I'll stop by today and help the old
man forget about his blossoming wards." He bowed.
    His sister choked.
    "Er, what?" he asked, confused.
    "Nothing, nothing at all." She snickered, her
eyes now dancing with some mysterious mirth.
    But he never had understood his sister and
didn't pretend to now. The truth was, he didn't really care
either.
    So, with a shrug and a bow to his sister, he
quit the Southridge residence and made his way to Mayfair to catch
up with his longtime friend, the Duke of Clairmont.
     

     
    Bethanny studied herself in the mirror. The
dress was perfect, utterly and devastatingly perfect. She spun
slowly, taking in every drape of the rose-hued fabric and the pearl
cream of the ribbon adorning it. The cut hugged her womanly shape,
accentuating her curves, yet was still modest enough for the duke
to allow her out of her room. And she knew full well that he'd have
no reservations of locking her in her room if she were immodest,
her come out or not.
    He meant well, and Bethanny loved him, even
if he was overprotective. She found it endearing rather than
offensive. It reminded her of her parents, and that thought always
brought her comfort, as if being reminded of them kept their
memory, their legacy, alive, even when they were no longer. A pinch
in her heart caused her to wince as she thought again about how her
father wouldn't be there to watch her debut, nor would her mother
kiss her on the cheek and encourage her. But it was enough to have
her sisters, Beatrix and Berty, as well as the duchess and duke.
Together, they made a family, Lady Southridge adding that final
touch of random meddling that made everyone cringe. It might not be
a perfect family, but it was hers, and she was thankful.
    "Are you done admiring yourself?" Beatrix
asked with amusement thick in her tone. Beatrix was sixteen, the
very age of Bethanny when they had come to live with the duke. In
two years Beatrix had grown from a girl to a woman, a keenly
intelligent woman. Bethanny tried to keep her overprotective
emotions in check, but in truth, she knew she was little better
than the duke. But she couldn't help it. Since their mother and
father died, Bethanny felt this… responsibility to be there, to be
strong for her sisters.
    "No." Bethanny glanced over to her sister and
raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should come back later," she
teased, hoping to lighten her own musings.
    "If I did come back later, it would be
tomorrow, and you'll spend the