Page 528 of From Rakes to Riches

The footman blinked. “Indeed.”

Oh, but this duke’s footman was a haughty creature.

As was the duke who issued his orders.

She exhaled a rather self-pitying, long-suffering sigh and finished her routine of settling Hannibal for the night. Only then, she muttered a grumbly, “After you.”

As Gemma entered the house through the kitchen, the memory came to her of the only other time she’d been inside the house proper.

The day she’d watched a duke shave.

A sliver of heat curled through her.

Ahalf-cladduke.

Which was only another way of saying ahalf-nakedduke.

She squeezed her eyes shut for an instant, willing the image away, and concentrated on the footman’s back.

Though she’d spent the first nineteen years of her life in an earl’s household, its splendor hadn’t sufficiently prepared her for the opulence of a duke’s household. Every room, from chairs to sofas to the walls themselves, was done in bright silks—one room floor-to-ceiling peacock blue, the next tranquil rose and cream, and the next cheery sunshine yellow. A color for every mood.

After they’d traversed no fewer than eight corridors, the footman finally stopped at a closed door and gave a light knock.

A muted, “Enter,” sounded through solid oak.

She’d been expecting the study to hold a single occupant—Rakesley—but as Gemma moved deeper into the room all done in rich mahogany and walnut woods, she registered three occupants bent over a large, rectangular table—Rakesley, his sister Lady Artemis, and the Marquess of Ormonde.

At Gemma’s hesitant approach, all eyes swung her direction. My, but they were a handsome, imposing trio. One couldn’t helpbut be impressed and a little awed by their combined aristocratic glory.

Gemma didn’t often regret her disguise, but there were times she wished she hadn’t made herself quite so filthy and repulsive. For instance, when she was in a duke’s study with three sets of noble eyes assessing her from moth-eaten hat to muck-encrusted boot.

“Ah, Gem,” said Lady Artemis, her ever-present smile beaming. “Just the person we wanted to see.”

Lady Artemis contained a bit of sunshine inside her. One couldn’t help but feel warmed by it. The Marquess of Ormonde gave a nod of greeting. He seemed nice. If Lady Artemis contained sunshine, then Lord Ormonde looked like sunshine personified with his longish blond hair, bright blue eyes, and easy smile.

Gemma returned their greetings with a short, sufficient nod, but her gaze couldn’t help being drawn toward Rakesley.

Dark…unfathomable…magnificent.

Almost too handsome to behold directly.

And when she—inevitably—met his eyes, she found she’d been wrong in her assessment. They were no longer inscrutable to her. She read connection there—and something else.

Awareness.

A slow shiver purled up her spine. Within his gaze lay depths unexplored.

Depths unexplored places inside her wanted to know…

Desiredto know.

Oh.

Rakesley gave two sharp taps of forefinger onto tabletop. Gemma startled and blinked, pulled from thoughts that were creating uncomfortable sensations in her body.

“We asked you here to settle a matter,” he said, beckoning her closer with a jerk of his chin.

Gemma stepped forward and winced. It was always the first step that was the worst.

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