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Chapter I
Yorkshire, June 1844
Lady Alexandra Huntington squinted at the invoice in front of her and breathed out the vilest curse she knew Unladylike, of course, but then she was sitting at abreeches, and doing aabout her at the moment
"BiBin" she tried again, glaring at the tangle of scratches that were supposed to be words "Oh, for God's sake" Thehad always been doubtful, but the man's penmanship had recently taken a turn for the worse She knew the bill of sale rain, probably oats crushed for the stables, and still she could make neither heads nor tails of it
It couldn't be helped then She would have to search out the stable master and compare his recent orders with the few letters she could h—she was the sister of the duke, after all—he clearly wished she would give up this ga her brother's estate
Alex stood and snatched up the paper The click of her boots was absorbed by a thick rug as she stepped into the hall, so even though she hurried, the faint echo of an unfamiliar voice still reached her ears
"You must be mistaken," a man said, as she moved toward the front rooms The words bounced off the marble walls of Somerhart's entry "His Grace assured me his sister would be home"
Alex blinked, shocked to hear herself spoken of Her brother had sent someone from London to see her? It seemed unlikely, howeverShe slowed her pace and paused in the shadow of the side hall to peer toward the front door
The lowering at Prescott That alone was interesting No one glowered at her brother's butler Prescott controlled access to a young and powerful duke
Alexandra felt her prickling interest grow stronger She edged a little farther into the room
"If you'd care to leave a card, sir—"
"I do not have a card" The man's eyes flicked toward her, pinned her for a bare moment He could not suspect who she was in her current attire, with her black hair pulled into a tight knot and the jacket hiding her curves Still, Alexandra straightened at the brush of that silver gaze, even as it moved back to Prescott The butler stood silent, not the least affected by the man's coolness Ten seconds passed Then twenty
With a stiff shrug, the stranger finally gave in to the i Prescott "Please tell her I need to speak with her I'm at the Red Rose"
She watched as he turned, felt the soft tug of her impetuous nature Who in the world was he? He should have been cowed by the butler's utter indifference, but he looked self-assured to the very fiber of his being even as he was turned away
His brown hair needed triotten his cravat as well as his calling card, but the perfect cut of his brown coat spoke of wealth And a Scot's burr softened his deep voice—and sped her pulse
Surely her brother would never speak of her to someone he didn't trust "Prescott"
Ever unflappable, Prescott simply stepped aside "My lady A Mr Collin Blackburn to see you"