A Gentleman Never Tells (Belmore Square #2) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: Belmore Square Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
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‘One cannot be seen arriving on foot, Frank,’ Mama says, tutting.

One absolutely could be seen arriving on foot, and one wouldn’t care, but one should not like to embarrass my mother. ‘Ah, finally,’ I say as a footman opens the door. I leave the carriage first, followed by Papa who helps Mama down. I hold my hand out to Clara, who raises her nose and, most revoltingly, but not unexpectedly, ignores me, huffing and barging past me.

‘I see she’s still as delightful as ever,’ Eliza says, joining me in watching our sister stomp away. I dip so she can reach my cheek when she leans up to kiss me. ‘How are you, my favourite brother?’

I cock my arm for her to link and walk us toward the grand hall. ‘I am your only brother,’ I point out.

‘Not true. I have Sampson now, too.’

Why does that annoy me? ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Exhausted, if you must know.’ Her violet eyes, now she mentions it, do look a little glazed. ‘I do not expect I could lift a quill to write even if I wanted to.’ She smiles. That looks tired too. Is this normal, I wonder? ‘I do, however, have the energy to read, and I am being kept most entertained by your words, Frank.’ I return her weak smile, touched, but more worried.

I stop us walking and turn to her, thinking perhaps she would be grateful of my physical support because she looks fit to crumple to the ground. ‘Eliza, you look terrible.’

‘Why thank you. I love you, too.’ Her hand circles her tummy. ‘I cannot deny it, I feel plain awful.’

‘Why are you here?’ I ask, irked.

‘Because she is a stubborn thing who does not listen to her husband.’ The Duke appears, looking grim and impatient. ‘I am taking you home.’ He claims her from me, and I do not argue.

‘I am all right,’ she insists, shrugging him off. ‘You big oaf.’

‘I have told you many times, Eliza, where you are concerned, I do not mind being an oaf.’ And with that, he scoops her up and carries her towards the Winters’ family carriage, where Lady Wisteria is stepping down. She shakes her head in delighted despair and joins me.

‘Good evening, my lady,’ I say, bowing my head.

‘It’s the first trimester, you see,’ Lady Wisteria Winters says, waving for Mama to come join us when she sees her looking on, concerned. ‘She cannot keep any food in her belly.’

‘She vomited in the bushes in the royal park this morn,’ Mama says, and Clara starts laughing, earning a dark glare from Mama, who links arms with Lady Wisteria Winters and walks onward.

‘Stop being such a brat,’ I warn Clara.

‘Bugger off.’ She pivots and stomps off, and I am left alone for all of a second before I sense another presence.

‘Good eve to you, Mr Melrose,’ Taya says quietly.

I look to the heavens for strength before I face her. ‘Good eve, my la––’ The words get all caught up in my mouth when the impact of her hits me, for she looks like nothing I have seen before, in a soft pink tiered gown and gloves to match that just cover her elbows. Her dark blonde hair is unconventionally piled high upon her head, and her neck, my God, her long, smooth neck, is draped in the most ornate, beautiful diamond piece. I clear my throat. ‘Good eve, my lady.’

‘Is it,’ she says, brushing herself down, looking as uncomfortable as I am beginning to feel with the space in my breeches shrinking by the second.

‘You look …’ I blink, clearing my throat, stuck for words.

‘Cat got your tongue?’

‘More a lion, I think,’ I admit. ‘I hate to tell you, Taya Winters, but you look absolutely sublime this evening.’

Her lips press into a straight line, and it is obvious that she is restraining a smile. ‘You look awful,’ she says.

‘Of course I do.’ I pull in my jacket and gesture the way. ‘After you, my lady.’

She nods and starts an unhurried walk, and I link my hands behind my back, perhaps to restrain them from grabbing and ravishing her, falling into a slow stride beside her, not too far away from her mother ahead to cause concern, but far enough so that we may not be heard. I am very glad no one was there to witness that moment of awe, because I am certain there was nothing I could have done to hide it.

‘I loved your piece today,’ she says, keeping her eyes forward.

‘Did it inspire you?’ I ask lightly, smiling down at her.

She laughs delicately, and I inhale and look away, reining myself in. I cannot enjoy this woman’s company. I must not. It’s an odd feeling, odd but pleasurable, to want to have conversation with a lady. ‘Oh yes, it did.’


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