My Fair Temptress Read Online Free

White ankle boots, polished to a blinding shine. The yellow waistcoat, so bright even he blinked. And in his blue eyes, an amusement that he quickly veiled.
    After all, his father was not stupid.
    As Jude adjusted the orange silk scarf tied about his neck and draped over the expanse of his chest, he said, “Any woman would be proud to call herself the countess of Huntington.”
    “Of course she would!” the duke said with unfeigned impatience. “After I die, your wife will be a duchess, and that’s not a position to be taken with a pinch of snuff and a hearty sneeze.”
    His father did not, Jude noted, consider Jude himself a good catch, only the title.
    His Grace rumbled on, “But until you apply yourself to the process of obtaining a wife, I fear you shall remain single and I grandchildless. So I have taken steps to remedy the situation.”
    Little surprised Jude, but he was surprised now. Swinging around on his father, he surveyed the man whom he resembled so greatly. With an unconscious return to his own crisp intonation, he said, “You don’t imagine I’ll marry a girl of your choosing.”
    Nevett raised his eyebrows. “I hadn’t imagined that, no. A man should choose his own wife from among the panoply of young ladies presented to him. But you’ve proved woefully inadequate in your ability to woo these young ladies.”
    Jude had been busy in quite another manner, but he did not admit that to his father. He already knew what Nevett would say about a Durant lowering himself to deception for the sake of God and country—and it wouldn’t be flattering. It wouldn’t be flattering at all. “Find me a young lady worth wooing, and I will do so at once.”
    “There are at least ten maidens of unexceptional birth and fortune on the market right now.”
    “I said find me one worth wooing. One with conversation and intelligence and—” He caught himself. “Not a pockmarked, unfashionable lady, but one whose sense of style matches my own.”
    “Lady Amelia Carradine dresses well.”
    “Too short. Clothes do not drape well on her.”
    “Miss Richardson is tall.”
    “Her complexion! She should refrain from sweets until the blemishes have diminished.”
    “Lady Anne Whitfield is young and trainable.”
    “Too young.”
    “Lady Claudia Leonard.”
    “Too old.”
    “Miss Naomi Landau-Berry.”
    “Please! Can you imagine being married to a woman named Naomi?”
    “Then you wouldn’t want to wed Lady Winnomena Bigglesworth.”
    “Actually, Winnomena falls upon the ear like a tune well played.” Jude frowned. “It is her deplorable habit of eating shellfish when it is presented to her that must be the deciding factor.”
    Nevett sputtered, “Eating…shellfish? Why shouldn’t she eat shellfish?”
    “I saw her eat scallops. Scallops are round .”
    “Round? Well, of course they’re round. Square scallops would be ridiculous.” Nevett realized he was being ridiculous, too, and he hissed in fury. “Who in hell would you wed?”
    “A lady of France would be most acceptable.”
    “You’re taxing my patience.”
    And Nevett was taxing Jude’s. Reining in his own annoyance, he seated himself once again and said in a softly apologetic voice, “Sir, I would never wish to do that.”
    Nevett dragged in a deep breath and choked, “Of course not. Not you .” He was freezingly polite, when actually he loved nothing more than a good fight, especially with his sharp-witted son.
    But His Grace wasn’t helpless. He had his ways of calling Jude to heel. “I’ve hired you a tutor.”
    “A tutor.” What was the old man talking about?
    “To teach you how to woo a woman.”
    “How to woo a woman.”
    Nevett struck the arm of his chair. “You sound like a prating parrot.”
    Jude felt like a fool. “You’ve hired me a tutor to teach me how to woo a woman?” For the first time since he’d started carrying his fan, he actually needed it. With a flip of the wrist, he fanned his hot face. “What will he