Bedding Lord Ned by Sally Mackenzie

smiled. “Oh, no. I was fortunate to stay nearby last night.”
    Probably in Percy’s bed.
    She put her hand on Percy’s arm. “I’d hate to miss the Duchess of Love’s annual party.”
    â€œOh? I would be happy to miss it.” Ned would give anything to be back in his study at Linden Hall, a glass of brandy by his elbow, a good book in his hands, the fire crackling in the hearth.
    â€œWhat, Lord Edward,” Percy said, “don’t you like having us all here to celebrate your birthday?”
    â€œNot particularly.” And especially not you, you whoreson.
    Why did Ophelia waste her time with Percy? Her father, the Earl of Brambril, had been dodging duns for years, so one would think his daughter would look for a man with money, not a ne’er do well like his brother-in-law. Even though her reputation was decidedly soiled, her birth—the daughter of a penniless earl was still the daughter of an earl—would make her appealing to many men. She was still attractive, though age was beginning to make its mark. Ned didn’t remember seeing the lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes last year.
    There was a stir at the drawing room door and Dalton stepped into the room. “The Countess of Heldon,” he announced. “Lady Juliet Ramsbottom; Mr. Harold Cox.”
    â€œWonderful,” Mama said, dragging Father over to greet the newcomers. “Welcome to Greycliffe.”
    â€œHow ... interesting that they arrived together,” Percy said.
    Ophelia frowned at him. “Oh, hush, Percy. They likely met in the hall when they came downstairs.”
    What the hell were they talking about? Not that it made any difference. Percy and Ophelia were always gabbing about some on dit that Ned couldn’t care less about. He never knew any of the subjects of their chatter.
    But this time was different—one of their subjects might become his future wife. At the moment, he could only see Lady Heldon and Cox. The woman must be Lady Heldon since she looked nothing like Cicely. She had dark hair and heavy-lidded, bedroom eyes; full lips, very red against her pale skin; and extremely large—
    He shifted his attention to Cox. The man was a typical London buck—coat, cravat, and pantaloons all the dernier cri , dark blond hair cut in the latest style. All he needed to complete the picture of a town beau was to observe them through his quizzing glass—which he did at that moment.
    Ned glanced down at Ellie to share the joke.
    She was staring at Cox with an extremely determined look. Damn. What was she thinking?
    â€œThere’s Juliet,” Ophelia said.
    Ned looked back at the group—and felt as if he’d taken a direct hit to his chest. The rest of the room faded away, and all he could see was the exquisite, fairy-like woman smiling up at Mama. Cicely.
    All the pain and loss and love he’d felt for his wife—everything he’d thought he’d finally put behind him—flooded out of the dark place he’d forced them, bringing the prick of tears to the back of his eyes.
    This wasn’t Cicely. It wasn’t , but ...
    Even Percy sounded a bit awed. “It is amazing how much Lady Juliet looks like my poor sister, isn’t it?”

Chapter 4
    Sometimes you need to be daring.
    â€”Venus’s Love Notes
    Â 
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    Thomas raised his brows as he removed Ellie’s untouched bowl of soup. She’d been to dinner at the castle often enough that the blasted footman knew Cook’s turtle soup was one of her favorites. She just had no appetite this evening.
    â€œDid you encounter any difficulties with the snow on your way down from London, Mr. Cox?” she asked, turning to the dinner partner on her right. Mr. Humphrey, on her left, was busy rescuing the last mouthful of soup before surrendering his bowl.
    â€œHmm?” Mr. Cox was staring across the table at Lady Juliet.
    The woman was lovely. She was small and