Frovtunes’ Kiss Read Online Free

black evening attire whose sole concession to history was a cravat pin of lapis lazuli carved in the shape of a scarab. It was Egyptian in origin, but who here would know the difference? He’d threatened to come in a fig leaf and nothing more, effectively silencing Mother’s and Letty’s nagging.
    Beside him, his mother tsked at his question. “Perhaps
vacated
is the wrong word, dear. Lady Monteith and her daughter have simply moved into a home that is more suitable to their needs.”
    â€œAt whose insistence?”
    â€œTheir
own
, to be sure,” his sister said. “They
certainly
must understand that you, as the new baron, have need of the house or will shortly, once you’ve married and set about producing an heir.”
    The beginnings of a headache grazed his temple. “I see you two have my future well planned.”
    â€œYes, and after all,” his mother went on, shaking her head and setting the peacock feathers on her mask fluttering, “what need would a widow and her spinster daughter have of such a vast estate?”
    Spinster?
Hardly the word Graham would use to describe the dazzling beauty he had glimpsed in Smythe’s office yesterday. Somewhat flippantly he had termed her
tragic
, but the notion kept returning to haunt him. He couldn’t erase from his memory the single tear that had traced a glistening course down her lovely cheek.
    The woman had lost her stepfather and her fiancé all in the same year. She’d left her home of many years, as well. Everyone jumped to reassure him of her well-being, but he wondered. Had the move been a voluntary escape from too many rooms and too many memories, or impelled by far less sentimental forces, such as the two ladies currently affecting innocent expressions, or trying to.
    â€œReally
, Monteith, you needn’t sound as if we tossed them out into the
rain
. We hear the parish has offered them a perfectly
charming
cottage.” Letty waved a beaded fan before her face while peering over its rim to see who might be watching her. In her jeweled headdress and draping, shoulder-baring gown of red and gold, his sister appeared an odd mixture of Roman goddess and Italian courtesan.
    Graham suppressed the urge to point this out to her and said, “For the umpteenth time, Letty, it’s Graham. Not Monteith.”
    No, his title sat heavy with him, more a burden than a boon after so many years in the desert. There, such respect was typically reserved for men who’d truly earned it, rather than those who claimed it on the successes of their forebears.
    â€œHow
provincial
.” Letty tossed her golden brown curls. “Monteith
is
your name now, like it or no. Furthermore, while you were away digging for skeletons, I grew up. I prefer Letitia. I
despise
Letty.”
    Yes, so did their mother. Graham still remembered the exact moment Augusta Foster had realized her colossal error in naming her infant twins Frederick, for their paternal grandfather, and Letitia, for a greataunt. She’d entered the nursery one sunny morning to hear their nurse cooing ever so gaily above them, “Good morning, Freddy; good morning, Letty. Time to get Freddy and Letty all ready.”
    Their mother had gone utterly still, open mouthed and aghast, only to burst into a tirade an instant later. She’d berated the nurse never to use those pet names again if she valued her position. Too late. Nine-year-old Graham, perched on the window seat, had taken an immediate fancy to the rhyme. He’d devised dozens more over the years.
    â€œI’ll certainly try to remember that, Letty,” he said now with a wink that made his sister’s eyes narrow and her lower lip droop.
    A crescendo from the orchestra drowned out her huff. Graham’s gaze drifted to the couples waltzing on the terrace. This gathering was about as exciting as life in London ever became, and he feared he’d drown in the boredom of it.
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