How To Distract a Duchess Read Online Free Page A

either. If Mr. Doverspike wasn’t such an appealing subject, his curiosity alone would be enough to let him go. The pointed questions about Beddington were dangerous enough on their face, but when voiced by a decidedly rough-edged fellow, they were even more troubling.
    Artemisia couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something not quite right about Thomas Doverspike.
     
     

Chapter 3
     
     
     
    “There you are, Artemisia dear. Finally.” Constance Dalrymple lifted the cup of chocolate to her exquisitely rouged lips. “We were just going over the final preparations for the ball. I need assurance that your Mr. Beddington has the arrangements well in hand.”
    Artemisia smiled a greeting to her younger sisters, Delia and Florinda, who were yawning over their breakfasts. Their mother kept the girls trotting at a breakneck pace late into each evening, trying to make certain the Misses Dalrymple were seen in the most flattering light at all the fashionable milieus. The London Season was in full blossom. In the quest for husbands for both her sisters, Artemisia was playing reluctant hostess to a masked ball a fortnight hence, a frivolity for which she had little patience and even less interest. But it had to be born for the sake of domestic peace.
    “Mr. Beddington’s assistant is bringing over the bills for approval later today.” Artemisia sat at the head of the long mahogany table. Maintaining her position as mistress of the household was a constant battle while her mother was in residence. She nodded her thanks to Cuthbert as he set a pot of chocolate at her elbow and poured the frothy delight into an eggshell-thin china cup. “Have no fear, Mother. Your credit at the milliner’s is still good.”
    “You think I’m worried about the money?” Constance’s powdered eyebrows shot up. “Merciful heaven, no. Your father, God love him, made certain his lambs should never fret about finances, even though they’re now sadly in want of a father’s guidance. No, it’s the guest list. Have we received a single response?” Without waiting for Artemisia’s reply, she hurried on. “I’ll have you know the Viscountess of Shrewsbury positively snubbed me at the opera last night before a wide circle of the best folk. It was most humiliating.”
    Constance pulled a handkerchief stiff with Belgian lace from her cuff and dabbed at the corners of her dry eyes. Artemisia suspected that if her mother hadn’t married Angus Dalrymple, Constance could have had a bright career on the London stage.
    “We’ve had Lady Shrewsbury to tea a dozen times and put up with her pasty-faced little daughter for any number of house parties, and yet she waltzed past me without so much as a how-de-do.” Constance gave an injured sniff. “And do you want to know why?”
    “No, but I expect you’ll tell me.” Artemisia sipped her chocolate, hoping Cuthbert would return shortly with a plate of buttered eggs. She made do with a spare breakfast of tea and toast before beginning her work each morning. By the time the rest of the household roused, Artemisia had worked up an appetite. And this morning’s session with Mr. Doverspike had roused more than a taste for jam and crumpets.
    With a steely glint of triumph in her light gray eyes, Constance plopped down a dog-eared copy of The Tattler . “Imagine my horror at seeing your peccadilloes flaunted before the entire ton. Your outrageous and lewd behavior is robbing your sisters of a chance for happiness. Really, Artemisia, it is too bad of you. What will people think?”
    “If people want to believe ill of a person they will, whether they read it in a scandal sheet or not,” Artemisia said evenly. “The only thing worse than being accused of lewd behavior is having it not be true.”
    Delia erupted in a giggle that was immediately silenced by Constance’s black frown.
    “Mother, I have never engaged in lewd behavior.” The Tattler’s scathing words still stung her heart, but her