Today's Reading
"After we finish the hunt, go see him," Wyatt suggested. "Check on his health and perhaps meet Miss Stowe."
That suggestion had merit, and he did want to see Winston, but it wasn't something he could do right away. "You know from here I've promised to go north to see Aunt Sophie. She's already planned for me to attend several house parties with her. You know I can't let her down after all she's done for me."
"The parties are for you to meet young ladies in hopes of making a match, are they not? And for her to meet older gentlemen, I presume."
Hurst chuckled. "Either way, I can't disappoint her."
"In the meantime," Wyatt said. "What are you going to tell your childhood friend? You can't leave him agonizing about what your decision will be while you attend to other things. He went to great lengths and sent a loyal servant to find you. He deserves a quick answer."
Hurst looked at the messenger standing patiently by the door. Taking the stopper out of the ink jar, he dipped the quill into it and spoke the words aloud as he wrote them on the paper the man provided.
"Dear Winston,
It was good to hear from you after so long a time. I am concerned to know of your illness, but feel your strong, youthful constitution will withstand the troublesome illness and you will be hardy by spring. I will plan a visit to see you soon."
Hurst hesitated, sighed, then nodded before continuing.
"It is with deep regret that I must decline your request to marry your sister.
Love, The Duke."
"Love?" both friends questioned skeptically at the same time and with the same degree of consternation.
Hurst discarded the quill and said, "I acknowledged I loved Winston as a brother at one time. What do you think I should have written?"
"Why not, Yours truly, the Duke?" Wyatt asked. "Or, Sincerely, the Duke?" Rick suggested.
Hurst deliberated over both suggestions, before saying, "The endearment stands."
CHAPTER TWO
MAN'S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Disguise yourself so you won't be recognized.
Something wasn't as it should be, and Hurst didn't like surprises.
More than slightly interested, he leaned back into the chair behind his desk at his London townhome and regarded with one sardonically raised brow the woman who had entered the book room of his home.
He was immediately taken with her, and it had nothing to do with her face; she presented herself as a man, but instinctively Hurst knew the person who had insisted upon seeing him about an urgent matter this night was female. No matter how superb her disguise.
The black summer wool coat had been generously padded to cover slim shoulders. A moderately starched neckcloth, elegantly knotted, contrasted beautifully against a red quilted waistcoat seamed with shiny brass buttons. She wore dark trousers that he was certain had been made to fit her tall, slender frame and not hastily altered for her. Well-heeled and highly polished riding boots added to her striking figure and poise. Even the masculine-shaped wig, dark as a raven's back, that concealed her hair was handsomely styled and becoming.
Yet, expert tailoring, and a dusting of face powder over a slight brush of kohl intended to mimic a shadow of beard, couldn't obscure the natural pink tint of her lips or hide the deep stirring beauty of delicate-looking, parchment-pale skin. Her arched brows had been darkened to match the wig, but that didn't matter. Her shapely, rosebud mouth simply couldn't belong to a man.
Someone had gone to great lengths wanting to dupe him. But who was she, and why was she there?
Hurst slowly rose from the chair as his butler left the room, closing the door behind him. He'd known of women dressing as a male to gain entrance into a gentlemen's club or private gambling party for a variety of different reasons, including only to satisfy their curiosity about such establishments. Never had he heard of one doing so to enter the sanctity of a man's home. That took nerves of iron, and he was rather impressed by her gumption.
This excerpt ends on page 15 of the paperback edition.
Monday we begin the book What If I Never Get Over You by Paige Toon.
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