At the Duke's Service by Carole Mortimer Page A

Those lips so full and pouting that they begged to be kissed and to kiss in return…
    Damn it, who was this chit to come here and interrupt Alexander’s evening entertainment, addressing him so familiarly by name, whilst at the same time evoking such fantasies that Alexander’s perfectly tailored breeches now felt uncomfortably tight?
    She smiled up at him, seemingly unconcerned. “I understand your need to return to your dinner guests, Alexander. I am tired from traveling these past two days, anyway. And of course, it would not do for you to introduce me to any of your guests,” she accepted good-naturedly. “I assure you I shall be quite happy to wait in one of the private salons until you have finished dinner and are free to join me.”
    Alexander’s head was starting to spin. Who was she…? From where had she been traveling these past two days? And why did the name Bristow seem so irritatingly familiar? Until he had answers to his questions, Alexander was reluctant to return to his guests.
    â€œWait there, Thompson,” he ordered, as the butlerwould have moved to do this young woman’s bidding. Meanwhile, Alexander’s dark gaze never wavered from the creamy and irritatingly enchanting perfection of his intruder’s face. “Exactly who are you?” he demanded of her impatiently.
    That blue gaze widened. “Angelina Hawkins, of course. Although I would much prefer that you call me Angel. Your Grace.” Belatedly she made a polite curtsy.
    Alexander stared down incredulously at her bent head.
    Angelina Hawkins…! The illegitimate daughter of Benjamin Hawkins and his mistress? An illegitimate daughter whose existence Benjamin had confided to Alexander on his deathbed almost three years ago?
    It had been bleak and stormy on the night Alexander was ushered into Benjamin’s hushed bedchamber. The older man had suffered a fall from his horse in an even worse storm two nights previously, resulting in injuries that would ultimately prove fateful. Alexander had sat at Benjamin’s bedside and listened to his tale of love and passion for the mistress who had been carried off by a fever but three days before. Benjamin’s distress at her loss was such that he had no desire to continue without her; hence, the deranged horse ride and fall that had sealed his own fate.
    But there had been more. There was a child from the alliance. A daughter, named Angelina.
    With both of her parents gone, and no otherrelatives who could take her in, Benjamin feared what would become of her, and had requested that Alexander see that suitable arrangements were made for her. A request that Alexander, distraught at his friend’s rapidly failing health, had readily agreed to do.
    But he had assumed that the girl was no more than nine or ten years of age, and had requested that Hopkins, his man of business at the time, place her in a school where she could board until she reached adulthood. At which time Alexander would turn his attention to arranging a suitable marriage for her, to a parson or some such. Someone who would not question her family background too deeply.
    Obviously the chit had decided to take matters into her own hands by appearing here uninvited this evening!
    â€œYou really must run along back to your dinner guests, Alexander,” Angelina now told him dismissively. “Thompson and I shall sort out where I am to go.”
    The last person to instruct Alexander St. Claire to “run along,” had been his nanny when he was but five years of age—no one would have dared to do so in the four and twenty years since then!
    That this—this young woman had done so was intolerable. Unacceptable. As was the fact that she was here, in his home, at all, and acting as if she had aperfect right to be here!
    Alexander drew in a sharply hissing breath. “Angelina—Miss Hawkins—”
    â€œDid I not tell you I would prefer you to call me