The Rake's Wicked Proposal
'Good gad! Is that you, St Claire?'
Lucian St Claire, having entered the coaching inn only seconds earlier, and feeling much relieved to at last be out of the relentless rain he had suffered for the last two hours, felt that relief replaced by a sinking dread as he easily recognised the boomingly jovial voice of the Duke of Carlyne.
'It is you!' The Duke strode forcefully down the hallway of the inn to where Lucian stood, removing his extremely wet greatcoat, a smile of pleasure lighting the older man's features as he thrust a hand out in greeting. 'Well met, m'boy!'
'Your Grace,' Lucian murmured softly, giving an abrupt inclination of his head even as he shook the proffered hand, his gaze dark and unreadable.
Deliberately so. He and the Duke had not met for almost two years, but Lucian knew that very shortly the Duke would remember the circumstances of that meeting, and the pleasure would fade from the older man's face. It was a face that had aged considerably in the intervening years, making the Duke appear much older than the late fifties Lucian knew him to be.
Ah, there it was, Lucian recognised heavily. The frown. The flicker of pained remembra ... read full excerpt from: The Rake's Wicked Proposal ebook
