Duke the Halls by Felicity Niven EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Felicity Niven
- Language: English
- Genre: Holiday Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
THREE DAYS EARLIER. December 20, 1817.
Kent.
Kittredge was in a hurry to escape Little Fricking-Green or wherever the
hell he was and hadn’t taken particular notice of the girl when they had
both climbed aboard the stage coach.
She was an ordinary girl, just like any other girl. No doubt on her way
somewhere for Christmastide. No reason existed to give her a second look,
let alone a second thought.
They were crammed into the only two unoccupied places, corner seats
against the side of the carriage and opposite each other. At first, he kept his
eyes glued to the window, searching for any sign someone had realized he
had absconded. But his luck held and the carriage rolled away from the
coaching inn with no one running after it.
When he finally looked away from the window, the girl held a book
inches from her eyes, obscuring her face completely. But within a few
minutes, a sound erupted from behind the book.
Golden, warm, pure. Joyous. The most remarkable sound he had ever
heard. He needed several seconds to recognize it as laughter.
She loosed her remarkable laugh again, and he noted how it invaded her
whole being, sweeping down her legs to make her boots dance and stamp
while also rolling up her torso so she shook and swayed with her cackles and
guffaws.
For the next hour, she turned pages eagerly, punctuating her reading with
that glorious laugh. She rarely let the book dip, but when she did, he spied
waves of dark brown hair under her bonnet. Quirking, intelligent brows.
Large, dark brown eyes to match her hair. A pert, little nose. Pink cheeks. But
her mouth stayed hidden behind the book.
It was maddening.
And his curiosity—rarely stirred by a human being, let alone a female—
was getting the better of him.
What was she? A young woman, not a girl. Given her worn clothing and
scuffed boots, she might be a gentlewoman who had fallen into distressed
circumstances. But there was no possibility she was nobility. She was
unchaperoned on a stage coach, for one. And there was her laugh. Any young
lady of the ton would have had that laugh schooled out of her long ago.
And what could she be reading that was at once so amusing and so
absorbing? The book was old, the cover stained, the spine faded to
illegibility.
Kittredge maneuvered an arm inside his old hunting coat and found his
spectacles. No, the blasted things were no help deciphering the title of the
volume. He tucked the spectacles away and scratched at the beard he’d grown
over the last six weeks.
As he had every autumn since leaving Cambridge, he’d decamped at the
beginning of November to the wilds of Hampshire on a hunting trip with
Dagenham and Bevel. Of course, most of the days had been spent sipping
whisky and reading books in the hunting box when it rained. But one
couldn’t claim one had to leave London just so one could read in peace. Or at
least Dagenham said one couldn’t say that, and Kittredge always deferred to
Dagenham in terms of what passed for acceptable.
But where was Dagenham when you needed him? Because Kittredge was
wondering if he might interrupt the woman’s reading and ask the name of the
book.
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